


The Reasons

by rachelladeville



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Dean teaches Mary a thing or two, Dean's bowlegs, Gay Sex, M/M, Minor Angst, Pining Dean, Post-Season 12, Pre-Season 13, Sad Dean, Slow Burn, canon level violence, coda 12 x 23, season 12, supernatural universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 81,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelladeville/pseuds/rachelladeville
Summary: For Dean, things never quite feel complete unless Cas is with them in the bunker. He'd tried telling the angel how he felt when they were battling Amara, but nothing had changed. When telling hadn't worked, he'd tried showing Cas how he felt. Hell, he’d even made a mix tape. Sadly, Cas had missed the point completely. And now, Lucifer has killed him.With Cas having been given a hunters wake, the boys are back in the bunker and searching for a way to get Mary back. They've also got to figure out what to do about Jack who is literally the spawn of Satan. As Dean grieves the loss of his angel, he decides that if he's ever lucky enough to have Castiel gifted back to him again, he will forget all about trying to tell, or even show Cas how he feels. Instead, he'll do something he's never done before... he'll give his angel reasons to stay.





	1. In the Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins where season 12 left off. I'm absolutely thrilled to say that Destiella has agreed to join me for this project. I'm lucky to have her insight and I'm grateful for the time she's putting in. Many, many thanks to her for her many improvements to the story!

 

 

Dean scrunched his eyes shut tight, pressing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand into his sockets. His left hand, marking the page of a dusty old book, itched to join his right. He’d been reading for so long that he couldn’t focus anymore and merely closing his eyes delivered no relief. Instead, he had to grind the pads of his fingers into them. This was the action that finally brought some moisture back, momentary relief that didn’t last long once he blinked open and began trying to read again.

“I think I need some coffee,” he muttered, abandoning the leather bound volume on the library table to head for the kitchen.

“Me too,” agreed Sam, pushing back from the table and turning to follow Dean. “But I’ll take mine without the hunter’s helper.”

Dean glanced over at his brother, his hand poised over the bottle of whiskey that sat open on the kitchen counter. “Good,” he grumbled, “we’re ‘bout out anyway.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep, Dean.”

“I’ve got a few more hours in me.”

“I don’t,” confessed Sam wearily. “After this cup, I’ll call it a night.”

“I’m tired too,” Dean relented, “but once I go lay down, all I can think about is mom… stuck in that, that Thunderdome with fuckin’ Lucifer.”

Silence descended for a moment as Sam tipped the pot, draining the last of the coffee into their cups. Pouring the remaining whiskey into his, Dean watched his brother’s face turn critical.

“Dean –“

“Ya don’t gotta say it Sammy.”

“It’s just, we can’t think clearly like this. We’re too tired, too wired, too –“

“I got it,” Dean spat tersely. “I’ll try to crash when you do. But man, I’m not even sure which is worse… tryin’ to stay awake out here, or tryin’ to go to sleep in there.”

Sam seemed to follow Dean’s gaze out of the kitchen and towards the hall that led to their bedrooms. The bunker was silent but for the hum of the industrial refrigerator behind them. Dean’s body was weary and craving the comfort of his bed. But his heart and mind loathed the idea of solitude, rest, or any other opportunity for contemplation to take root in his mind.

Logically, Mary was dead. They both knew it. I just didn’t feel right, though, to be resigned to it. To accept it. Perhaps their commitment to a rescue mission was less about actually finding their mother than it was about simply maintaining their denial. After all, if they were still looking for her, still trying to find her, then the fight wasn’t over. But, the minute they agreed to call a spade a spade and admit that Mary wasn’t coming back, they’d have to take the next step. They’d have to mourn.

Dean didn’t need to hear the words to know that Sam felt the way he did. As far as the brothers were concerned, until there was irrefutable evidence to the contrary, Mary Winchester wasn’t dead. She was missing. And they’d remain committed to finding her.

Taking his coffee with him, Dean exited the kitchen. The library of their bunker was just as they’d left it. Messy. Books were scattered about, pages marked haphazardly. There were dirty plates and wrappers scattered about. It had been days since they’d given Cas his hunters funeral, almost a week actually. And during that time, no one had so much as picked up a dish.

Any thoughts of Castiel immediately drew Dean’s attention to the fissure in his heart and for the sake of self-preservation, he fought them as though they were a dark enemy seeking to take over his soul. Dean resolved to avoid the pain of a loss he _couldn’t_ deny, and forced himself to focus his attention on the one that he _could_.  Returning to his ancient text on Anglo-Saxon blood runes, Dean took another long swig of his lukewarm coffee before picking up where he’d left off.

The brothers had been pursuing what they felt were the two most logical paths for finding their mother, and they’d divided up the research accordingly. Dean was slogging through possible ways to open doors to other dimensions, something they had almost no experience with. Across the table from him, Sam was digging around for ways they might locate Jack. Sam was much more confident in both Jack’s willingness and his ability to re-open the rift between worlds than Dean was.

The assertion that Jack, literal spawn of Satan, would somehow embody goodness or morality simply because his mother had been a good person was laughable. Even if it worked like that, each parent making up equal halves a child’s personality, it seemed doubtful that Jack would follow that model. After all, the evil part of him, the part genetically gifted by the devil, was no doubt the more powerful part. Any so-called ‘good side’ was weak, supplied by a mere mortal. In the face of the raw power and fury of an angel, that spec of mortal was like one grain of sand buried under the weight of an entire dune.

Taking a deep breath, Dean returned his attention to the ancient text in front of him. It didn’t take long before the lines of hand-inked text began to blur again. He’d only covered a few more pages when he had to concede defeat. Giving up, he abandoned his work and the coffee that had grown cold. “I’m callin’ it,” he muttered as he shoved back from the table.

Sam didn’t answer, but he rose from his seat dejectedly and followed Dean out of the library. No one spoke as he and his brother filed into their respective rooms and closed the doors. The bedside lamp was on, keeping Dean’s brick walls warmly painted in amber.

Despite the constant cool temperature of their subterranean lair and the harshness of concrete floors, Dean had always felt cozy in his room here as long as there was soft lamplight shining. That’s why the lamp remained on almost constantly, sometimes even during the night while he slept.

Standing at the foot of his bed, Dean contemplated a shower. He’d not taken one since he’d lost… well, since he’d lost.  Dean’s pits were ripe, his neck was gritty, and his scalp had been itchy for days now. But, to bathe or shower now would be to wake himself back up and, sadly, what he needed was to sleep. Sammy was right about that. Their minds would not be sharp if they continued to go on without rest. Something of vital importance could go unnoticed, some important connection might not get made. They had to be at their best. So, knowing that his best shot at sleeping was to drop down on his bed filthy and let sleep take him, Dean did exactly that. His last coherent thought was that hopefully he’d have no nightmares.

An undeterminable amount of time passed with Dean resting in the cradle of sweet oblivion. But then, somewhere in his bones, Dean felt a need to wake. Consciousness rushed in on him and, as he became aware of what had awakened him, he found his hand already under the pillow and curling around the grip of his gun.

His body grew tense as the noise registered with him. It was sharp. Mechanical. A noticeable click. As he analyzed the sound, Dean thought it reminded him of a power outage. In the moments following that telltale click, the bunker descended into the kind of deep, eerie silence that seems to accompany a  loss of electricity.

Dean held his breath, gun in hand, not moving as he listened to the deep silence of their underground bunker. He heard no footsteps and felt no presence near him but adrenaline surged through his body as he tensed in the bed, waiting. Then, there was another click, this one much louder than the first. Or perhaps it was the same only this time he’d been fully awake to hear it. Then, like an explosion, light and noise flooded the space around him. His feet were on the floor in a heartbeat, shoulder width apart with his weapon drawn and pointed towards the hall. Shooter’s stance.

Voice thick from sleep, Dean hollered out, “Sam!”

Nothing. If his brother was calling to him, the sound of it was lost to the squall of an overhead buzzer alarm. The noise was familiar, similar to the sound of fire drills in elementary school. It inspired panic. “Sam!” he called out again.

This time, he could faintly hear his brother’s response. Moving quickly over the hard floor, keeping his gun out in front of him, Dean headed out into the hall. Casting a glance in each direction, he confirmed it to be free of danger before turning to face the direction of Sam’s room. The lights were flashing in synchronization and the strobe effect made Sam’s movements appear jerky and robotic as he emerged from the darkness and closed the distance between them.

“What is that?” Dean shouted.

“An alarm.”

“No shit,” he barked gesturing for Sam to watch his back as he turned down the hall. Unaware of what the danger might be, Dean kept his weapon ready and his eyes peeled as they moved towards the front of the bunker. When they arrived at the next juncture, they had the choice of heading down one hall for garage access or going in the opposite direction towards the library. Dean felt torn. His instinct was to check all possible entry points. But, to do that effectively, the brothers would need to split up. One of them should go to the garage and the other to the war room where the main entrance was visible. But for some reason, splitting up just seemed like a bad idea.

The gun was probably useless, given that whatever had managed to cross their locks and warding to enter their home was probably not susceptible to bullets anyway. But, despite its uselessness, Dean felt better with a weapon thrust out in front of him. The pearl handle had been in his grip for most of his life, as much a part of him as his own hand.

Turning to his brother, he cast a beseeching glance in the hopes that Sam would weigh in on whether they should split up or not. “War room,” growled Sam, wearing a scowl of intense determination. Dean nodded agreement and they set off together, Dean taking point position and Sam backing him up.

They cut through the library and as they approached the three steps that led down into the war room, Dean stopped dead in his tracks. The entrance appeared secure, at least what Dean could see of it from here. There was no movement either. But, under the flashing white lights, all other power was out. The glass lamps in the library were dark. So were all the wall sconces and overhead lights. The only thing besides the alarm and the strobe lights that seemed to be working in the bunker was the huge table in the center of the war room. It was lit up like Christmas, lights dancing across the back-lit map on its surface.

“What the fuck?” barked Sam, stepping up beside him and taking in the chaos.

Dean’s blood ran cold as he remembered the one time something like this had happened before. Kevin had been the only one here to witness it at the time. But even now, years later, Dean had a sinking feeling that he knew what this meant. Not taking his eyes off the spectacle, Dean answered his brother. “Angels.”

Sam stepped past Dean and jogged down the steps. His movements still appeared mechanical under the flashing lights and, as he lowered his weapon to follow his brother, Dean was dimly aware of a dizziness starting to set in.

Working to control his breathing and the heavy thud of his heart, Dean walked past Sam and over to the wall where several large levers were located. He tried them one at a time until, thankfully, one of them ended up turning off the siren. Even after the wail of the alarm was gone, Dean’s ears were still ringing from it. The regular lights didn’t come back on though, just a single emergency light. It clunked on and bathed the room in faint red light. The hum of a generator slowly became audible as Dean’s ears adjusted to the silence.

Sam wasn’t looking at him, his attention was fixed on the table. Dean walked up behind his brother slowly, his eyes roving over the glowing map on the war room table where bright white lights were flashing out of sequence. “This happened when the angels fell,” Dean explained, “Kevin said the whole place shut down and all the lights on the table lit up and went crazy.”

“Global badness,” said Sam softly. “That’s what Charlie said this meant. ‘Global badness’ is what sets it off.”

“Well, that’s accurate,” chuckled Dean. His mind was flicking through memories of what earth had been like when the angels had been cast out of heaven.

“It’s just one light,” observed Sam.

“Huh?”

“It’s just one light,” he repeated. “A minute ago it was moving so fast that it looked like lots of lights. But now that it’s slowing down, I can tell it’s just one.”

Dean watched the table. Sam was right. One light was pulsing erratically, popping up in one location and then moving to another.

“Do you see a pattern?” asked Sam.

“No,” he answered. It was getting easier to follow the light. The brothers watched without speaking as it blinked back and forth a few times, appearing in the US twice, once on each coast, and then in Europe followed by China, India, Africa and then back to the US. The coast of Australia lit for a moment and then the light showed up somewhere in Central America. Before Dean could even check for the name of the country, the glow shifted again and popped up in Egypt once before resting for a few seconds in Northern Michigan.

“It seems to hit in the US more than anywhere else,” he mused.

“Dean. It’s him.”

“Who?”

“Lucifer.”

“Can’t be. Mom took him out.”

“He’s back.”

“Sam –“

“It’s him Dean. He’s an angel. That’s what this tracks.”

“I thought it tracks badness.”

“Power,” whispered Sam. “It tracks power. I’m sure of it.”

“So, you think he’s found a way back? I don’t buy it Sam. He knows where we live now. He’s literally been in the bunker. If he were back, don’t you think he’d drop in?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think we’re at the top of his list right now.”

“How are we _not_?” challenged Dean. “We tried to gank his kid.”

“ _You_ tried to gank his kid,” said Sam pointedly, “I wanted to try talking to him. I _was_ talking to him, until you busted in. Seriously Dean, your whole ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ mentality has bitten us in the ass more than once.”

“Yeah, well, when has a deal with the devil served us well?”

“He’s not the devil.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Dean, you tried to kill him. So, even if there was a chance of getting help from Jack, I’m pretty sure you’ve burnt that bridge. And, you made us a target. Now, the devil and his son are going to be after us.  But, I think we’ve got some time.”

“How do you figure?”

“They both want to find each other… Lucifer and Jack. Until they do, we’re not on the priority list for either one.”

He hates it so much when Sam is right. When his brother speaks again, it grates on his nerves.

“Arguing isn’t going to help us. We need a plan.”

Nodding agreement despite his irritation, Dean trained his eyes on the table. “It’s more purposeful now,” he observed.

“Yeah, looks like he’s closing in on the US.”

Standing side by side, the brothers watched the light as it lingered for quite a while in Texas. Then it relocated to Wyoming, North Dakota, Wisconsin, and Ohio. The light lingered for several minutes in each location. They’d been standing here watching for quite some time and the tension in Dean’s neck was making his shoulders ache. Resting in western Tennessee for over five minutes, the light seemed to have come to a stop. Dean looked over at Sam and said, “Did he just drop anchor in Memphis?”

Sam shrugged in response and as they waited for the light to move again, Dean rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “You realize he just made a huge circle around the bunker, right?”

Bathed in red light, Sam’s face was tense as he met eyes with Dean and said, “Yeah.”

Dean glanced down at the pitiful weapon in his hand. “We’re sitting ducks here,” he said, “I say we get mobile. Let’s load up and hit the road.”

There was a pregnant pause as Sam seemed to consider his suggestion. Slowly, ever so slowly, the light in Memphis faded and went dark.

“Head to Memphis?” proposed Sam.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, scratching his itchy head, “Memphis it is.”


	2. On the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiella, thank you very much for your suggestion on this chapter. It fits just perfectly!

 

 

Neither of the brothers bothered taking the time to restore full power to the bunker. They rushed from room to room in the half-light throwing together their bags and gathering weapons. Skipping a shower and clean clothes again, Dean headed for the garage. With a ruck sack thrown over his shoulder, a duffel in one hand and his pistol in the other, Dean followed his brother to the Impala. They were on the road in record time.

Adrenaline had perked him up for now and Dean planned to ride the high for as long as he could. Soon enough, he’d be battling exhaustion again. Research is a necessary part of the hunting life and Dean tolerates it when he has to. But, ultimately, he’s a man of action and is much more comfortable swinging at something than studying it. So, even though they didn’t have much to go on, Dean was glad to be out of the library actively chasing a lead.

Beside him in the passenger seat, Sam was opening his laptop. Glancing over, Dean asked, “How far is it?”

“About eleven hours.”

“Damn. Seems like it should be closer.”

“We should get there around 4 pm,” Sam told him. Then Dean had to turn on the radio because Sam buried his face in the laptop, presumably researching. Switching stations until he found something he liked, Dean had just relaxed into the drive when Sam spoke up again.

“There was a massive power outage in Memphis.”

“When?”

“Just now. They’re reporting blackouts in Raleigh, Walnut Ridge, and Sanga Point.”

“Are those nearby towns?”

“No,” replied Sam, squinting at the screen, “they’re parts of Memphis. I’m pulling up a map now.”

“There was a huge power outage in Washington the night Jack was born,” replied Dean, turning the radio off.

“It looks like all three areas boarder a huge park.”

“How huge?” asked Dean.

“Um, Shelby Farms Park…” muttered Sam, hunched over the keyboard that he’d perched precariously on his knees. “According to the city parks information, it’s over 45,000 acres of wooded trails. There are several lakes within the park too. Dean, it’s enormous.”

“Great,” he said acerbically, remembering their recent escape from a government stronghold and into the Rocky Mountain National Park. “It’ll be good to get back to the woods,” he added sarcastically. “It’s been too long since I was covered in mosquito bites and chiggers.”

“It’s still over ten hours away, Dean. I don’t see him still being in the woods by the time we get there.”

“What’s the plan then?”

“Well,” sighed Sam, “I suppose I’ll keep watching the local news out of Memphis and hope for another lead.”

Dean nodded agreement and returned his full attention to the road. Before long, Sam was closing up his laptop. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep,” he said, leaning back in the seat. “You’ll need me to drive soon.”

With Sam resigned to resting, the car got too quiet and Dean once again turned the radio back up. He allowed the lyrics of good songs to occupy his mind, not wanting to get drowsy, and he sang along softly while Sam began to snore over on the passenger side. It wasn’t long before the sun was coming up and, with the daylight, it was easier to stay awake. He put almost three hundred miles on the odometer before finally pulling into a service station.

“Where are we?” asked Sam, waking as Dean put the car in park.

“A wide spot in the road.”

“I’ll be back,” Sam said as he climbed out of the car. Dean watched his lanky brother stretching and rolling his neck as he headed inside.

Dean leaned on the trunk as he pumped gas. It was late morning and his stomach rumbled for food. He was tired too, both in body and mind. He’d been pushing away thoughts of his mom and Cas for hours, and now he was looking forward to the sweet embrace of nothingness that sleep would bring. When the tank was full, Dean headed in to use the facilities and grab some food.

It was a quick stop, both brothers taking semi-edible food with them in the car. Dean drove for a bit longer while he ate, allowing Sam some time on his laptop to check the news out of Memphis.

“Anything?” he asked over a mouthful of gas station pizza.

“Not a thing. Power is restored in all affected areas and the rest of the city is, well, quiet.”

Dean nodded and continued eating. Beside him in the front seat, his brother clicked away on the computer. “You gonna finish that?” he asked, gesturing to the half-eaten apple turnover wrapped in a napkin on the seat.

“Go ahead.”

Dean polished it off in three bites, licking his sticky fingers.

“Dean, there’s been another power outage.”

“In Memphis?”

“No. Tulsa.”

“Tulsa, Oklahoma?”

“Yes.”

“How big?”

“Big.”

Dean opened his mouth to ask how far they were from Tulsa, but as he did, they rumbled past a sign indicating it was only 25 miles away. He signed as he abandoned his plans to sleep and instead gave his brother an affirmative nod. “Tulsa it is,” he sighed.

The outages had been confined primarily to Broken Arrow which was on the south-west side of the city. It took over an hour to get to the area since it was noontime and the roads were crammed with traffic. Once they arrived though, there wasn’t much to go on.

“What do you think?” Dean prompted. “Wanna start by checkin’ out local law enforcement? See if they’ve had any weird calls today?”

“Maybe,” answered Sam noncommittally. Dean waited, passing two exits as his brother continued to consult his precious laptop. Dean heard it beep the low battery warning and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pressing Sam for a faster answer.

Seeming to feel the tension radiating from Dean, Sam added, “The outage in Memphis happened around a huge park. I’m checking to see where the biggest parks in this area are.”

“And?”

“The biggest is Mohawk Park,” he answered, “but it’s nowhere near the outage. Doesn’t seem like a smoking gun.”

“Well, what’s the biggest in Broken Arrow?”

“Nothing stands out. I mean, the biggest patches of green on the map aren’t really parks. One is a golf club and the other is a reservation owned by the boy-scouts.”

Dean was passing exit after exit as Sam searched for something… anything… a place for them to start. He slowed a bit when the city seemed to start fading out, the buildings farther apart.

When the laptop’s battery warning sounded again, Sam sighed and closed the lid. “Maybe,” he ventured, “we should just get a room somewhere. You need to sleep and the laptop needs to charge.”

Dean nodded his agreement despite being unhappy about resting when they were so close, but he had nothing better to suggest. So, he pulled off at the next motel he saw. It was an eyesore called the Indianhead Motel. The sign was weathered and rusty and the actual building wasn’t faring much better. “My kind of place,” he said sarcastically as he rolled up to the office.

“Maybe there’ll be a mint on your pillow,” Sam replied.

“Only if the roaches aren’t hungry.”

Slinging his rucksack on the bed and carrying his duffel with him to the bathroom, Dean didn’t hesitate to turn on the hot water and hop in the shower. He shampooed his hair twice and lathered up his body with the tiny soap. It was such a relief to finally clean himself. The mirror was fogged when he exited, which was fine with him. He had no inclination to shave anyway. The hot water had relaxed his muscles and drawn his attention to how weary he was. Over the past week, he’d had maybe four or five hours of actual sleep. Dozing off from time to time and waking when his head snapped forward didn’t count as sleep and he knew it.

Normally, this would be a time when he’d call out to Cas. To use the word ‘pray’ wasn’t really accurate since he’d never actually figured out what language constituted a prayer. He certainly didn’t fold his hands or bow his head. But he did speak out loud, calling Cas by name and then usually barking at him to ‘get his feathery ass down here’. He almost did it now, his mouth falling open as he thought of his friend. But, no words came out and the sharp pain of loss snapped at him like a rubber band as he almost prayed. Then, in the heartbeats that followed, the sting of it receded back to its previous state, a dull ache that stayed with him all the time.

Turning from the fogged mirror and exiting the bathroom with a cloud of steam, Dean saw Sam sitting at the rickety table. He was bent over the laptop, now plugged in. He didn’t look up from the screen as Dean ambled over to the bed, but he did speak.

“Get some shut eye,” Sam ordered, “I’ll wake you if I find anything.”

Dean flopped face down on the bed with the hotel towel still wrapped around his waist. When he rolled over a short time later the towel came loose, but it didn’t matter. Sam had covered him up. Dean burrowed down in the blanket and let himself fall back asleep.

One moment he was curled up in bed and the next he was back on the same rocky shoreline where he’d watched Lucifer murder Cas. Thankfully he didn’t have to see that part again. But, regardless, he was still here with the angels body spread out at his feet. Dean looked over the impression of charred wings that has been burnt into the uneven ground. He’d only ever seen these wings in shadow, but they were real enough now. Their span was impressive and they dwarfed Castiel’s lifeless body.

Dean once again dropped to his knees under the weight of his loss. He felt like he’d relived this moment a hundred times. A thousand. With his eyes resting on Castiel’s face, so peaceful and serene now, he waited for what he knew would come. Pain.  

There was a moment of anticipation, just a split second, before the weight of it would come crashing down on him and steal the breath from his lungs. The feeling was familiar. He’d experienced the same thing every time he took a tooth rattling blow to the jaw, or heard the snap of breaking bone. With injuries like that, there was always a fraction of a second before his body could process the agony. It’s never been more than just the space between a few heartbeats, but it always terrifies him as it’s happening because there’s no way of knowing just _how bad_ it’s really going to be.

This is it. This is what it’s like to remember that Cas is dead and gone. Dean has no way to block the anguish he knows is coming. All he can do is brace himself in preparation. As he does, an unexpected sound reaches his ears.

It’s a phone. Somehow there’s a phone ringing. Lifting his head, Dean opens his eyes and sees the motel room take shape around him. He’s not on the ground with Cas. He was just dreaming of being back there.

Cas is gone and has already been given his final farewell. Dean had stood with him too, longer than he’d stayed with his father or Bobby or Charlie or any other hunter he’d ever paid final respects to. For Castiel, angel of the Lord, he’d stood all night and half of the next morning just keeping vigil as Cas’s vessel had burned to ash. Dean hadn’t stepped away from the smoldering remains of their funeral pyre until Sam had forcefully pulled him away, insisting that they were out of time… that Jack already had one mother of a head start and they simply couldn’t stay any longer.

As Dean exited the dream world and returned to reality, he swiped the moisture from his blurry eyes. Sam had answered the phone and was now leaving the room. Perhaps he wanted privacy for his call. Or, maybe he’d sensed that Dean needed a few minutes alone.

Regardless, Sam had obviously noticed that his brother had been having a nightmare because he had turned on the television before stepping out. Dean muttered a ‘thanks’ as he turned his face into his pillow. Once the door had clicked shut and he was alone, Dean allowed a few tears to seep out and collect on the pillowcase. Not a lot; definitely not a full-blown cry. Just enough to let some of the pressure out. Lately he was feeling a teapot – ready to blow. The drone of an afternoon cooking show on TV was just enough of a distraction to keep his mind off of the dream, but yet still dull enough to lull him back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was to the click of the door. Dean turned over. Through bleary eyes, he watched Sam enter with bags of food. “What didja bring?” he asked, wondering if he’d be expected to eat rabbit food.

“Subs. There’s a decent place down the road.”

“What do I smell?” he asked, the scent of pizza not making sense based on the kind of food Sam said he’d bought.

“I got you the meatball sub. Thought you’d want something hot.”

“Thanks.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like a wrung out dish rag.”

“You look like a homeless man,” chuckled Sam, sitting down on the bed to divvy up the food.

Dean was too groggy to think of a decent come-back. He settled for an eye roll as he dug into his food.

“Dude,” barked Sam, snatching the sandwich back from him, “When you’ve put on pants you can have this.”

Dean opened his mouth to joke that Sam wasn’t his mother. But, the gentle brotherly teasing died on his tongue. How could he even say the word ‘mother’ when theirs was missing? Closing his mouth tightly and closing the bathroom door behind him, Dean dug into his bag and began to dress. It would seem that no thoughts were safe. Any topic he could think of was taboo right now. The brothers had failed to contain Jack before he was born, failed to kill him when they had the chance, lost the angel sent to them from heaven, and, let their mother get dragged to another dimension and get stuck there. What was left to ruin?  

Despite the oppressive melancholy of his thoughts, it was nice to feel clean again. As he was pulling a flannel shirt on over his tee, Dean couldn’t help noticing how rough he looked in the mirror. His hair was wild from having been wet when he fell asleep on it. After so many days of not shaving, his five o’clock shadow had begun to evolve into an actual beard. The pale skin of his face was blotchy and his eyes were hollow and sunken, red rimmed. With a deep sigh he returned to the bed and sat down cross-legged. He picked up his messy sandwich and resumed eating sloppily. It was good. Surprisingly good.

“How long was I out?” he asked between bites.

“All afternoon.”

“Any updates?”

“Nothing. I made a few calls. There’s been nothing of consequence reported to local law enforcement. The power’s back on in town and no new outages have been reported. I’m not really sure where to look next.”

“Well, the rooms paid for,” shrugged Dean, “I vote we crash here tonight. It’s as good a place as any. We’ll watch and see if there’s any new outages. If so, we’ll follow them. If not, we’ll head back to the bunker.”

“Works for me,” agreed Sam, balling up their wrappers and tossing them into the trash can. Dean shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth and made to lean back on the pillows. At precisely that moment, the electricity went out.

Dean hadn’t bothered checking the time when he’d woken up, only assuming it was the dinner hour because Sam had brought in food. But it was obviously later than he’d thought because without the aid of electricity, the room was almost completely dark. From the gaps around the curtains a bit of purple light was leaking in, but that was the only illumination.

Dean pushed off the bed, his body a half-step ahead of his sluggish mind. He was going for his gun, even as his brain reminded him that it would do no good against Lucifer. Digging into their weapons bag, he coiled his fist around the hilt of an angel blade and pulled it to his side. He didn’t remember it being so heavy. Perhaps he was feeling weak because he was in worse shape than he’d thought. Shrugging off the observation, he began moving towards the door.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” muttered Sam, also arming himself.

“Nope. Keys?”

“Here,” said Sam, putting them in his hand, “what’s the plan?”

“This is as far as I’ve gotten on the plan,” admitted Dean, stepping up to the door and pushing it open. The violet light of dusk was all that remained of the day, but at least it was a bit lighter outside than it had been in their motel room.

“Dean, is that what I think it is?” asked Sam from a few paces ahead.

“Where?”

“There,” husked Sam, keeping his voice low as he pointed to their left. Dean closed the distance between them, craning his neck to see around the corner. There, behind the motel, stood a tree line that marked the end of the motel property and the beginning of a forest. Not seeing anything yet, Dean took a few more steps and directed his gaze in the direction of Sam’s pointed finger. Dean’s jaw dropped as his eyes connected with a familiar but still unbelievable sight. Lingering there, a dozen or so yards from the woods, was an unmistakable glow. The formation shimmered as it twisted gracefully around on itself, undulating with energy. Against the blue-black backdrop of trees and dark sky, the bright orange glow was unmistakable.  

“Another tear,” whispered Sam, “Do you suppose it goes to the same world?”

“Only one way to find out,” answered Dean, already stalking closer.

“Dean wait –“

The weight of Sam’s hand fell on Dean’s shoulder, probably meant to stop him from advancing on the rift that twined alluringly. It called to Dean. His mother was on the other side of that makeshift door.

“Don’t,” said Sam firmly, “It could be a trick.”

“How so?” he asked, pausing to consider the possibility.

“Well, what if he’s here already? He could’ve come through while we were still in our room. He could be watching us right now… waiting for us to step through so he can lock the door behind us and keep this world for himself.”

“Lucifer.”

“Yeah, think about it Dean, Crowley’s gone. The archangels are all gone. Who’s to oppose him? We are literally all that’s left between the devil and his apocalypse. We don’t even know where Chuck is. It really seems like he's long gone. Amara too.”

“I think you’re right Sammy, it’s probably a trap. So, yeah, we stick to this side of the door. But I don’t think its Lucifer fuckin’ with us.”

Dean took his eyes off the rift for a fleeting moment to meet eyes with his brother.

“Who then? Jack?”

“Bet your ass. Who the fuck opened that thing in the first place, huh? That kid is stronger than we thought he’d be. He’s stronger than even the devil… that’s why Lucifer wants him so damn bad.”

Now that they were focused on each other rather than on the portal nearby, the two began to orient their bodies so they’d each have a view over the other’s shoulder. Better to watch one another’s backs. But, just as they settled into position, there was a bright flare of light from the portal. Shielding his eyes from it with his arm, Dean squinted into the light.

As he watched, miraculously, a familiar form stepped out of the portal. Dean plunged forward without waiting for his brother, without caring that it might be a trick, without thinking anything through. He stumbled twice as his feet eagerly covered the spread of grass between them and the portal. When he finally found his voice, all Dean could do was croak out, “Cas?”

As if from a distant dream or memory, nostalgia washed over him as he heard the words, “Hello, Dean.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comment could make my day!


	3. Thunderdome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Destiella for her work. She was responsible for the best line in the last chapter and for some pretty solid recommendations in this one. She's fantastic!

 

Dean was overjoyed as he connected with Cas. Their arms clasped around one another tightly and he smiled into the stink of Castiel’s trench coat. It was filthy, he realized, as was the angel’s skin and hair. The scent of gun oil, dirt, smoke, and whiskey clung to his friend, but even as he was thinking how very human Cas smelled, his intuition and base perceptions were marking the differences that reminded Dean what species Cas really was. There was no lingering odor of sweat on the skin that Dean had his nose pressed into, because angels don’t perspire. They were swaying back and forth, still rocking from the momentum they’d carried into their embrace and It was an odd thought to have at such a pivotal moment, but Dean found himself glad that he’d finally had a shower so he’d smell good to Cas as they shared this moment.

Dean clung a few beats longer than he should’ve, unable to let go, and as the two of them lingered together for a moment, another pulse of bright light surged from the portal. Someone else was coming through. In the background, Dean heard the muffled sound of Sam speaking and then Bobby’s answering voice reached his ears.

Bobby. It had been so strange seeing him again when they’d stepped through the doorway to the apocalyptic wasteland. Knowing that it wasn’t really _his_ Bobby didn’t seem to change anything. Being near him, hearing his voice, it was a jolt. So was the realization that the real Cas, his Cas, was here now. It must’ve been the doppelganger of Castiel that they’d burned and mourned. This was _his_ Cas. He was sure of it.

The portal flared again, several times in quick succession. Finding the will to untangle himself from Cas, Dean again shielded his eyes from the glare and peered out from under his sleeve. It was confusing for a beat, as several bodies pushed through the portal one after another, and Dean’s hand instinctively tensed around his weapon as he stepped into fighting stance, unsure if those arriving were friend or foe.

When the light from the portal reduced back down to a soft amber and resumed gently twining, Dean looked around at everyone who had arrived. Dean saw his brother hugging someone but couldn’t make out who. Bobby’s eyes were locked on Dean, appraising him, and Dean nodded an acknowledgement before skimming his gaze over the others. The next face he landed on was quite unexpected. He knew that face, had seen it smile at him a few times, and had seen his brother turn gooey over it. Eileen. One cool chick. She’d left him The Colt when she’d gone. Obviously she and Sam had something going, and it had been hard to watch his brother hear of her death. Now, he wondered how Sam would respond to seeing her clone. The face of his mother was present, but it wasn't really her. He knew it in a glance just by her face. Her expression was far too detached and cold to be that of a mother reuniting with her sons. He also noticed that the wedding ring she always wore around her neck was absent. This wasn't their mother so he let his eyes travel past her and looked back at Sammy. 

But when his eyes found his brother again, the bodies in their small gathering had shifted and Dean now had a direct line of sight on the person he’d been hugging. The two were pulling apart now, arms still around one another as they began speaking quietly each other, barely any space between them.

Completely stunned and confused, Dean did a double take. His his eyes shot back and forth between two irreconcilable images. "Mom?" he managed to croak out, “and, Mom?”

Turning to face him, Sam and one of the two Mary’s turned to face him. “Yes, Dean, it’s me,” she said with a beatific smile. He’d seen his mother through the eyes of a child and the eyes of an adult. He’d also seen her as a much younger version of herself, having traveled back in time to do it. In all her personifications… eager young girl, doting mother, vengeful hunter, and even maternal disappointment, Dean had always found her remarkably beautiful. Crushingly so.

Stepping forward to hug her, because how could he not, Dean hated how needy he was for her. Just like with his father, she’d been incapable of loving him the way he wanted to be loved. But still, he’d go to her with the highest hopes, just as he was doing now. She’d break his heart. Again. Without a doubt. But still, here he was, seeking the comfort of her arms and wishing it were enough.

Working to control his shaky voice and hold back the tears that threatened to fall, Dean looked over at the other Mary. “And what do I call you?” he barked at her. He hadn’t meant it to sound so harsh, but his throat was constricted with emotion and it lent a rough quality to his voice.

“Well, I’m not your mother,” she replied with her chin raised in defiance. “So, you can use my name like everyone else.”

It was impossible not to want to punch her and she seemed to know it. She was smirking now and he tried to put on a poker face. Unable to pull it off, his gaze slid back over to his brother. The only safe face at this moment. Sam, however, had pulled away from their mom and was now making his way over to Eileen. Dean couldn’t watch. With nowhere safe for his eyes to rest, he focused them on the portal and stared blankly as it hovered there along the dark tree line. It turned and bent sinuously, always changing and thus hinting at its impermanence.

“Look,” said this other Mary, “I’m just here to verify that we’re not being lied to about what’s on your side of this magic door.”

Dean glanced over at her for a second, long enough to see her looking around. He indulged himself in a glance over at Cas before returning his gaze to the shifting portal. “You anglin’ for a cheap vacation? Cause findin’ a return flight’s gonna be a real bitch.”

“I’m not leaving Eileen here with strangers until I know she’ll be safe.”

Dean was confused by the statement on so many levels. What was Eileen to Mary and why was Mary so invested in her safety? Come to think of it, when they’d visited the apocalyptic version of earth they’d been told by Bobby’s clone that Mary Campbell had been killed by Azazel a decade ago, so how was she here? And why? Why were any of them here? Despite his questions, Dean didn’t miss his window for a snappy retort. “Well, look who’s got a soft spot, huh?”

She didn’t respond, turning her face away as if he didn’t matter at all. “Bobby,” she said firmly, “What do you think?”

“I think we should go. The longer we leave that gate open, the more likely it is that somethin’ ugly will follow us through. And… stayin’ aint an option. If we let that door close, there’s no way of knowin’ when or where we’ll be able to open it again. We’ve got people dependin’ on us,” Bobby added. “We need to be back in time.”

Dean’s mind was churning as he tried to settle on which of the many issues he should be focused on… and dammit if this guy didn’t sound just like the real Bobby. Turning to Mary Campbell, Dean watched her consider Bobby’s words. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he hated her ferociously. He wanted to hurt her. The words were out of his mouth before he could even consider them. “Just do what you do best and git gone, okay?”

The look she gave in response showed both pity and disdain. “You’re such a momma’s boy,” she said, her voice carrying a false note of sweetness. She was speaking to him as if he were a spoiled child. “I mean, she said you were needy but, damn.”

“I said he needs me,” corrected his real mother quickly. He appreciated hearing her make the distinction, but she’d leapt to his defense so quickly that in the aftermath, he began to wonder if it perhaps the accusation had hit closer to home than either mother or son were comfortable with.

“This is a shit show,” Dean growled, reaching the limit of his patience. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re in the middle of the damn apocalypse,” replied Bobby, “and we’re losing. That’s what’s going on. As if that's not bad enough, your fly-boy dropped in and brought all kinds of crazy with him. And, as if we needed more trouble, you folks shoved another Lucifer through the crack and now we’ve got two.”

Dean stopped listening for a moment to ponder that… the complexity of it as well as the obvious implications. Bobby was still talking and Dean tried to force himself to track the words. Across from him, standing next to Eileen, Sam was nodding along. It was a good thing Sam was focused because all Dean was getting were bits and pieces.

On the other side of the portal, demons actually had fangs and horns that regular people could see. The terrain was different and well, fuck, lightening was red. So, it would seem that there was some question as to whether the weapons and magic might also be different from one dimension to the next. Mary, Bobby, and Eileen seemed to be hopeful that they’d find something here… a weapon… a spell… anything that would help them get an edge in their coming battles. So, the gang from the other side was sending an ambassador in the form of Eileen Leahy, who would gather intelligence from this side of the portal.

From the way the three interacted, it was obvious that Eileen was the “Sammy” of their group. She was the one who knew multiple languages, loved the smell of old books, and spent her time researching. This new Bobby was clearly less into reading and research than the one Dean had known. New Bobby seemed more a purveyor of oral traditions – stories told by hunters he’d met and drank with. Despite his lack of research finesse, he still seemed to be the patriarch of his band of hunters, just as Old Bobby had been in this version of the world.

For several minutes Dean listened, and thought, and tried to prioritize his questions. Mostly, his eyes lingered on the portal, only flicking to Cas occasionally, checking to be sure he was still here. The angel didn’t speak. He just stared at Dean. The weight of those eyes on him had once been off-putting. In his early days with Cas, Castiel then, he’d always felt that the seraph had known more than he was telling. Back then he’d been half convinced that Cas could read his mind.

Their friendship had grown over the years and so had Dean’s attraction. Under his angel’s heavy stare, Dean had felt small. And guilty too. Heaven had sent an angel to bring him up from hell and his reaction had been to harbor a lustful desire that did nothing but sully the pure gift of angelic grace he’d been given. As their friendship and loyalty had grown, Cas had continued to stare at him intently and stare too long and too hard. But over the years, Dean had grown comfortable with the way things were between them. He no longer wondered if Cas could read his mind. If the angel knew what he was thinking half the time, Dean would have been smote by now.

Recently though, in the time before he’d been killed at the cabin, Cas had seemed to be looking at Dean differently. His eyes reflected much less of the curiosity, frustration, or even pity that was normally visible. Rather, Dean was noticing that as of late, Cas was showing more warmth. Kindness. There was definitely affection between them now and there was no mistaking it. But did Cas have desires like Dean did? Maybe. He’d been human for a time. Perhaps even if he didn’t reciprocate Dean’s longing, he could at least understand it.

Realizing that his mind had wandered off course, Dean snapped his attention back to the conversation at hand. While he’d been pondering his angel, Sam had been speaking to the group about Eileen. As he caught up with the conversation, Dean was able to piece together the plan. Bobby and Mary were preparing to leave. Dean’s mother would be staying with them, safely returned from bizzaro world, and Eileen would be staying with them as well. At present, Eileen was embracing Mary Campbell.

As they two pulled apart, Eileen both said and signed, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Watch your back,” was Mary’s response and it was accompanied by a stilted nod.

Unable to keep from rolling his eyes at Mary’s tough talk, Dean then glanced over at his own mother. He’d not gotten a chance to hug her yet, but he’d be damned if he was doing it while Mary Campbell was still here to see. As Bobby and Mary turned to leave, Dean watched Sam move to Eileen’s side and reach out like he meant to put a comforting arm around her. She sidestepped him and crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her eyes trained on the portal as her friends left her behind.

The startled look on Sam’s face would’ve been comical if Dean hadn’t been so full of empathy for his brother at that moment. Poor Sammy had always been more cognizant of what they were giving up to live the hunting life than Dean had.

As they’d grown older Sammy had become Sam, and while that was happening he had seemed to accept that their lives would be short and lonely. Dean had watched his brother give up on the idea of ever marrying or having children. Then, about the time that Amara was released, Sam seemed to start thinking of marriage again. He’d even mentioned it to Dean a few times. He was no longer talking about leaving the hunting life, resigned to it every bit as much as Dean. But he’d begun to mention something of a compromise… settling down with a hunter, someone who would understand the life they led and fit into it.

Since Sam had already been considering the idea of pairing up with a hunter, meeting Eileen had probably seemed like fate and she’d made quite an impression on his brother right from the start. Dean knew that Sam had respected her as a hunter, welcomed her as a friend, and though he didn’t say it out loud, Dean also knew that his brother found the woman attractive. She wore flannel pretty well, that must’ve been a plus.

And Dean had to admit, she cleaned up pretty well. Her smile was lovely. When they’d found out she was dead, things were falling apart and hunters were dropping like flies. There had been no time to mourn her, and because of that, Sam had never really had a chance to say good-bye.

And now here was Sam, probably still raw from Eileen’s death, standing right next to _her_. This wasn’t the woman that his brother had begun to imagine himself settling down with, but she looked the same. She sounded the same too, even had the same mannerisms. That same smile.

The pulse of white light from the portal, as Bobby and Mary stepped back through it, sent Dean hiding behind his arm again. He stood for a moment watching, only turning away when the twining orange light ebbed and disappeared. In the absence of any light source, it was dark as pitch. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to get his eyes to adjust, Dean found himself reaching for Cas. Two blind steps in the right direction and a hand found his shoulder. Sliding back into the arms of his angel again, Dean whispered, “Thanks for bringin’ mom back.”

“Of course,” whispered Cas as they hugged. Dean breathed him in and, damn, Cas smelled better coming out of an apocalyptic wasteland than Dean had yesterday after just a week in the bunker with no shower.

“S’good to have ya back,” he whispered, belatedly pulling back a bit to zero in on the angel’s face. “Who the fuck did I burn…” he joked crassly as they pulled apart, “… the version of you that wears a necklace made of baby ears?”

Castiel quirked a half-smile at him and nodded as Dean stepped away to finally, finally hug his mother. She held him close and told him she was glad to be back. It was a nice moment and he didn’t want to let it go.

But, a few minutes later, they’d crossed the empty lawn behind the motel and come back around the corner to their room. With Cas having posted himself outside their door like a sentry, the brothers darted about the room and rushed through packing up. Mary and Eileen were perched at the wobbly table, trying to stay out of the way. They were on the road in less than five minutes with Mary, Eileen and Castiel all crammed into the backseat. Dean put the hammer down, wanting to put some distance in the rear view mirror. A quick departure seemed the smart thing, since there was no way of knowing what may have come out of that portal before they’d discovered it, or that another one wasn’t going to drop in on them at any moment.

Dean’s nerves began to calm once they were in the car, his baby rumbling under him like a trusted friend. As they headed northwest on the freeway, Dean looked over at his brother on the passenger side. “Make for the bunker?”

“Yeah,” nodded Sam, glancing over his shoulder, “I’m sure Eileen would like to get into the archives and do some research.”

“I could eat,” Mary chimed in from the backseat. “I’ve had nothing but gruel for days.”

Dean craned his neck a bit, stealing a glance at Cas as he turned to his mother and asked, “What sounds good?”

“Pancakes,” she answered with a smile, “and bacon.”

About forty minutes later, they pulled into a truck stop near the junction of 64 and 75. Parking outside the attached diner, Dean stepped back and opened the door for his mother before leaning in to offer Eileen a hand. She took his proffered hand begrudgingly, probably still untrusting. He’d expected this world to feel like paradise considering how desolate her own had seemed to him. But, as he considered her point of view, he had to admit that the city around them was probably very chaotic, confusing, and overwhelming for her.

They filed quietly inside and chose a large corner booth. The place was mostly deserted. Their waitress handed out menus and glasses of water under harsh fluorescent lights, advising that the special was Irish stew with biscuits. Once she’d gone, the group fell silent as they considered the offerings.

Dean already knew what he wanted so there was no need to look at the menu. Cas must’ve already had an order in mind as well. As they sat there, the only ones not focused on ordering, Dean noticed Castiel staring at him. He warmed a bit, but didn’t look away. Letting their eyes lock, Dean chanced a small smile and hoped to see it returned. When it was, his own grew larger and so did his angel’s in response.

“Burger?” he asked.

“With Bacon.”

“And pie.”

“Yes. Pie.”

“Spinach salad,” added Sam, snapping his menu down in the center of the table.

“Seriously?” Dean challenged, giving his brother the fisheye.

“Dean, we just age huge sandwiches, like, an hour ago. I’m not even hungry.”

“You know,” their mother chimed in, “I think I’ll have a double order of bacon with my pancakes.”

Dean watched Eileen glance around the table and then ask Mary what she should order. It was a valid question. If their mom had been gone a week and seen nothing but mush or hash during that time, odds are that most of this diner food would give poor Eileen a raging bellyache and a rotten first night in the new world.

They settled on oatmeal for her, and briefly discussed transitional foods that she could use to move from ‘gruel’ to real food. Then, once their order had been placed and they were alone again, Dean asked his mother to tell them what had gone down with Lucifer.

“Oh, I thought I was goner,” she admitted. “You should have seen the look on his face… it was like he was trying to figure out the slowest and most painful way to kill me.”

Dean grimaced, “How’d ya talk him out of it?”

“I didn’t. He did. It was so strange. I mean, does he always monologue while he’s killing?”

“Yes,” crowed Sam and Dean in unison.

“Good to know,” she chuckled. “Well, in the end, he said he knew that there was just no way my boys were going to leave me there to rot. He said you’d find way to open the rift again, and when you came for me, he’d be waiting.”

The entire table was now hanging on Mary Winchester’s every word. She explained that Bobby had seen her with Lucifer, rallied his friends, and pooled their resources. The group had managed to use their only running jeep and some solid distraction techniques to get a ring of holy oil laid and lit. Once the flames had ignited, Mary had made a play to exit the ring, but it hadn’t been easy. At least she still had her brass knuckles.

“That wasn’t the end of it either,” said Mary, continuing her story as she poured creamer and sugar into her coffee. “We’d drawn quite a bit of attention to ourselves and it seemed like everyone wanted a piece of Lucifer. Angels swooped in – a horde of them.”

Everyone was on the edge of their seat listening. Everyone, that is, except Eileen. She’d likely already heard the tale, or had perhaps been part of the action. So, rather than pay attention, she was gazing about the diner and taking in her surroundings as she continued to eat and drink.

“An angel named Zachariah was the one who actually took Lucifer.”

“Zachariah?” parroted Dean, his jaw dropping open in surprise.

“Yes, why, did you know him?”

“Well enough to know that he was probably the one who started the whole ‘necklace made of baby ears’ thing.”

“Oh. Well, his vessel was decomposing. It was hideous.”

“He’s the biggest douche of them all,” muttered Dean. “Sucks to know that flyin’ ass monkey is still alive in _any_ universe.”

“Raphael was worse,” Mary responded.

Across the table, Dean saw Cas stiffen at the mention of his vanquished enemy.

“He was there too?” Dean asked.

“No. Him I met later. In prison.”

“Prison?”

“Yeah, after Lucifer was bound, the angels took him and left. Demons had been watching and swooped in to pick up the leftovers… one injured angel, a couple of the men, and me. Azazel had the men killed, but took me. That’s where I met Mary Campbell, I shared a dungeon with her. She’d been there for over a decade.”

Mary looked up then, her attention on the waitress who was bringing their food. That was the end of the questions for a bit. Dean watched his mother inhale her food, feeling a smile of amusement settle over his lips. She looked like she’d just come in from camping, her hair stringy and dirty, grit caked into the crow’s feet around her eyes, and black dirt packed up under her fingernails. Eileen seemed pleased with her bland meal. Eventually, the two hungry women slowed their ravenous eating to a normal pace. At that point, Dean started in with more questions.  

“How’d you got away, Mom?”

Fuck all if Mary Winchester didn’t wink at him. “With a little help from my friends.”

“Friends?”

“Well, Bobby and his crew. They came for me and killed Azazel. It was the first successful mission they’d had in a long time. They liberated the prisoners and since Mary and I were in the same cell –

“Mary and I,” repeated Dean grimly. “It’s just creepy. Seein’ you two standin’ next to each other is like… the freakin Twilight Zone.”

“Yeah, well, to no one more than me, right?”

She was looking at him pointedly and it was clear that she meant for him to shut the hell up. And he did. He’d not really been thinking of it from her point of view, but if it was weird for him to see his mother and her clone, then it was probably doubly weird for her. Maybe she hated that other version of herself. Maybe she was jealous of her.

“Anyway,” she said, shoveling in a quick bite before continuing her story, “Bobby had thought Mary was dead. So imagine his surprise when the two of us came walking out of that cell.”

Dean watched his mother and Eileen share a conspiratorial look. “We’d had a few days to get to know each other at that point,” she added. “So, from there we headed back to Bobby’s place... a compound where all his hunters shelter. That’s when I met Eileen. She was their resident researcher and she had room after room of books and maps and supplies.

“Once she found out that a Nephilim had opened a door between worlds, she set out to find something referencing that in her library. She stayed at it for days and it took two helpers to keep up with bringing her volumes she asked for and putting away the ones she was done with. It was incredible.”

“No internet in Thunderdome?”

“Thunderdome?” she repeated questioningly.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that was past your time,” said Dean, unsure of how to take the sting out of his words.

“It was a movie, mom,” supplied Sam, “set in a wasteland. Dean thought it was amazing. It wasn’t.”

“It was, bitch.”

“Wasn’t, jerk.”

“Boys,” she chastised, “Zip it.”

Dean and Sam both snickered and returned to their food. Mary told the rest of her story as they ate. She and Bobby’s people had spent days researching, preparing, and tracking down the ingredients needed for spells. But in the end, they’d made it happen. They’d opened a door. Now, the plan was for Eileen to do the same here on this side of the portal. She wanted to pour over their books and spells, check out their weapons, and basically ‘shop’ through everything they had in search of anything that might be helpful in her own dimension where the apocalypse was in full swing.

Back in the car, everyone was nursing a full stomach so they gradually started nodding off. It was dark outside which probably made it easy for Dean’s passengers to sleep. Somewhere around the Kansas border, it started to rain. Not wanting to disturb the peace, Dean left the radio off. With the windshield wipers ticking back and forth like a metronome, Dean’s mind began to wander. He thought about how lucky he was to have his mother back, and how easily he could have lost her again. He was still angry at her deep down, and probably always would be to some extent. But she was his mother. And, against all odds, she was here with them. So, he figured he’d forgive her as much as he could and just tolerate the rest.

Dean glanced occasionally in the rear view mirror as he drove, watching Cas in the backseat. As his mind wandered from his mother to his angel, Dean remembered how desolate and empty he’d felt when he’d thought Cas was dead. It was as if he’d lost a part of his own soul.

Honestly, he should’ve known better than to bother grieving. Cas had more lives than a damn cat. But, with his angel back, Dean felt whole again and warm in his chest. If this was as close as he and Cas ever got to dating, it would be enough. As long as Cas would stay with them in the bunker, Dean was certain he could be happy.

But, since Dean was only human, it was in his nature to always want more. So, as he thought of Castiel, he didn’t just think of having him near. He thought of having him nearer. He thought of touching. Tasting. Sharing a bed. Sharing a life. He wanted that, more than anything.

As he closed in on the bunker, Dean considered the vow he’d made regarding Cas. He wanted the angel to stay with him, always. Telling Cas how he’d felt in the past had been futile – mostly because Dean was shit at telling people how he felt. Sadly, showing Cas his feelings hadn’t worked either – but mostly because Cas was shit at understanding how people feel. Even Dean, apparently.

But, as they drew closer to home, Dean reflected on the vow he’d made to himself regarding Cas. Going forward, Dean would be doing something he’d never done before… giving his angelic friend reasons to stay.

The idea seemed almost elegant in its simplicity. Dean already knew how it felt to curl up in bed with someone you love, spend Christmas morning with family, ride go-carts, hunker down with a tub of popcorn in a darkened movie theater, play pranks on your brother, tickle your lover, and a thousand other things. And these things, these little things, were what people lived for. And Cas had never experienced anything of the sort. The only human life Castiel had lived had been filled with constant hunger, filth, and fear.

If Dean could show his angel the good things, he’d fall in love with life here on earth. He’d have his own reasons to stay in the bunker with them. To be a family. Perhaps their relationship could evolve into a sexual one someday, but even if it didn’t, Dean would still choose life with Castiel over life with anyone else. He smiled as he thought of it and glanced in the mirror. Cas was asleep with his head slumped against the window. The rain had dissipated to a light mist, and Dean was turning his wipers down to low speed when his phone’s ringtone blared out and startled him. Not wanting to disturb the others, he fumbled to answer the call quickly.

Putting the phone to his ear he whispered, “Yeah?”

“Dean, its Jody. We’ve got a problem and I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comment could make my day!


	4. A Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Destiella, I'm so thrilled to have your help on this story!

 

“Dean? It’s Jody, we have a problem and we need your help.”

“Where are you?”

“At home. Claire’s here and she’s with me on this one. Donna too.”

“Donna’s with you in Sioux Falls?”

“Yeah, has been for a while, she’s been a big help.”

“What’s the case?”

“Missing persons… there’s actually been dozens of new cases across the state, but we’ve been focusing on the three right here in town.”

“What makes you suspect these are our kind of cases?”

“Nothing, really. But Dean, so many missing persons, it goes way beyond what’s normal.”

“Vic’s have anything in common?”

“No, we can’t find a thing that links these folks. Locally, we’ve got a young mom with two kids who just never showed to pick her kids from school, a forty year old electrician who left work for lunch and never came back, and a twenty year old waitress who disappeared in the middle of the lunch rush. I’ve been pouring over their histories and I can’t find a single common thread.”

“What about the rest of them? You said statewide there’s more?”

“I don’t know how connected they are, but yeah. There are six more within an hour’s drive.”

“We need to make a stop at the bunker,” said Dean doing some quick math in his head to figure their travel time. “But we should be able to get there by breakfast.”

“Good. I’ll email you boys the files I’ve already got. You can get started with that.”

“I like waffles for breakfast,” he reminded her before hanging up, “with bacon.”

“Who was that?” asked Mary and Sam in unison. Realizing that most everyone in the car was awake, Dean gave them the full story. 

Sam was already pulling out his laptop. “I’ll see what I can find.” 

With the information that Jody had sent them, Sam managed to find a few leads worth checking out. As he was working on that, everyone else was figuring out how to divide and conquer. Eileen was anxious to get back to the bunker and dig into their archives. Fake Bobby and Mary would be returning for her in just under  thirty days, because the spell they’d used to open the portal would only work during a full moon. Since her time was limited, she didn’t want to lose days, or even possibly a week, by joining them on a hunt. Dean understood her logic. After all, their case probably seemed like small potatoes to a girl who’d been surviving a full blown planetary apocalypse for most of her life. 

Mary, though interested in helping with their case, appeared to be torn between helping them and helping Eileen. Cas was with the boys, wherever they were going. It was a given. When they rolled into the bunker’s garage in the dead of night, everyone dispersed. Mary excused herself to the bathroom, Sam led Eileen off to show her where she’d be bunking, and Dean walked next to Cas until they split apart to each enter their own rooms. Dean had to dump his dirty stuff and pack for the next leg of their trip, though he had no idea what Cas would actually be doing in his room, since the angel had no need to pack anything.

Dean grabbed a few things and tossed them in a bag before heading quickly back to the garage. Mary and Sam helped him rustle up the rest of his gear and pack the car for South Dakota. When Cas joined them, he was remarkably clean. Since they’d only been here about half an hour, Dean knew that he’d not laundered his clothing. Castiel had obviously used his grace to remove the dirt and grime of the alternate world from his suit and trench coat. Chuckling to himself, Dean wondered why it was that Cas always seemed to wait for the use of a bathroom before performing his ‘insta-clean’. Adding this to the many other questions that plagued him about the in’s and out’s of life as Cas, Dean closed the trunk and turned to the group.

“Let’s hit the road,” he said, ready to get going.

Sam chose that moment to announce that he’d be staying here to help Eileen, rather than ride up to Jody’s with Dean and Cas. Dean bit his lip to keep a wicked and knowing grin from stretching across his face. His brother was so predictable. Their mom seemed to be thinking the same thing as Dean, that Sam had an ulterior motive for staying behind with Eileen. But, she said nothing as she looked back and forth between Sam and Eileen with a spark of interest in her eye. 

“Well,” said Dean to Mary, as he moved to the driver’s side door, “you with us on this one or not?”

In response, Mary seemed to give the matter one more moment's thought before shaking her head no. “We’re not even sure this is a real case,” she reminded him. “But the apocalypse? That’s pretty damn real. Our friends on the other side of that portal need our help. So I think I’ll stay here for now to help Sam and Eileen with the research. I’m the only one who has spent a significant amount of time in Eileen’s version of our world and I should be here to help. I think you and Castiel should go ahead and check into things with Jody. If it turns into anything, call me for back-up, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“And tell her, well, tell her I said hello,” said Mary, seeming uncomfortable as she acknowledged her tenuous and perplexing connection to Jody.

“Will do,” he answered dutifully. In a way, it felt wrong to leave his mother here. He’d just gotten her back. But, he couldn’t deny that he was craving some time alone with Cas. The group said their good-bye’s and then, with his angel beside him in the passenger seat, Dean put wheels to the highway heading north. 

“So,” he said, striking up a conversation, “how you feelin’?”

“I’m alright.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“It’s a long story Dean.”

“Hey buddy, we’ve got all night,” he reminded.

Cas seemed to settle in for the ride, leaning back in the seat. It looked like he was trying to decide where to start and he seemed so very human and uncertain as he did that.  “I’d like to apologize to you first, Dean,” said Cas thoughtfully. “None of this would have happened if I had worked with you and Sam instead of taking off on my own.”

Dean found it extremely difficult not to launch into a speech about exactly that issue. This wasn’t the first time Cas had excluded them, even betrayed them, with the misguided logic that he was somehow protecting them. When would he learn? But, taking a deep breath, Dean decided there was no sense beating a dead horse. There was a lot he could say, but it had all been said before. Cas had said he was sorry and Dean could see that he meant it. Biting his lip Dean gave a firm nod and said, “It’s water under the bridge.”

In the silence that followed, Dean glanced over and saw Cas looking over as though Dean had grown a second head. In response he simply said, “What?”

“Dean, forgiveness doesn’t usually come so easily for you. I’m a bit surprised.”

Cas was right. Dean had held onto grudges far longer for much less. In fact, it seemed like he’d been angry about one thing or another for too damn long. He and Cas had been arguing like an old married couple for the past year and Dean was ready to be done with it. It was just too hard to care for someone so much and still carry resentment towards them. That’s how it had been with both John and Mary, each in their own time. Dean had learned to stop being angry and just accept each as they were. He’d have to do the same for Cas. 

His mother’s resurrection had taught Dean a lot of lessons about love, forgiveness, and acceptance. All his life Dean had thought that if Mary had lived, their lives would have been different... that she would have loved them enough, taken care of them, tended to them, and kept them out of the hunting life. Now, with her back, that delusion was gone. John. Mary. Tomato/Tomahto. Life would have been the same for him and Sammy regardless of how things had gone down with either parent. He and his brother still would have been raised as hunters, the Winchesters still would have been dysfunctional, and their family would have torn itself apart over and over as they disagreed on how to handle one issue after another. There was no point in being angry about any of it. 

From Mary’s return, Dean had also learned that just because someone loves you, it doesn’t mean they’ll always do right by you. In fact, the more you love someone, the more wiggle room they have to hurt you, disappoint you, and abandon you. To love, he can see now, is to risk. That truth seems to go double when the one you love happens to be an angel. Cas will hurt him. Has hurt him. There’s no point in being angry about it. There’s also no point in fighting it. Dean’s been fighting his feelings for Cas from day one and it’s been futile. 

Putting an end to the long and drawn out silence, Dean shrugged and changed the subject. “So, tell me what the fuck happened. How did we end up burning your clone?”

“You burned him?”

“Well, in case you didn’t know, Lucifer killed him. You. The bastard stabbed you in the back. Fine way to treat a brother, huh?”

“Brother doesn’t mean the same thing between angels that it does between you and Sam - especially not to Lucifer. Did you really burn him? Me?”

“Hunters wake,” answered Dean on a long sigh. “It seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, you were one of us.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, where the fuck were you?”

“The moment I saw the tear, I knew what it was. Deep down, I knew it was trouble. But, for some reason, I felt very calm about it. I felt that it was all just part of Jack’s plan to bring paradise on earth. In fact, from the moment I put my hand on Kelly’s belly, I felt very much at peace regarding Jack.”

“Sounds like he had you all doped up.”

“Doped up?”

“Yeah, Cas, you told us it was Jack’s power that killed Daigon. It only makes sense that if the bouncing-baby-hellspawn could send you power through Kelly and help you kill Daigon, then he could probably send you anything he wanted - including good vibes.” 

“Yes Dean. I hadn’t thought of it like that. I was thinking that perhaps some portion of his grace had transferred to me and left me vulnerable to his influence. But you may be right. It could be that he simply has the power to spread his will by touch. It’s almost impossible to guess what kind of powers Jack might have. But regardless of the mechanism of action, his power affected me and guided my actions and made me faithful to him. I didn’t even realize it had been happening until I actually stepped through that portal to the other side. From there, his influence seemed to vanish. I was clear-headed again. I was actually trying to formulate a plan when I was taken.”

“Who snatched you?”

“My own kind. Angels. Though, Bobby was right. The angels there are, well, different.”

“What did they want with you?”

“To send in a spy. They took the embodiment of me that was part of their dimension and cut his hair, dressed him in my clothes. I knew exactly what they were doing the moment he put his fingers to my forehead. I could feel him invading my memories, taking things he could use so as to convincingly pass for me on our side of the portal.”

“Why would they wanna send a spy?”

“They want Jack. He’s a powerful weapon.  And, Dean, he wants to go to that place. That’s why the portal was opened. It wasn’t a coincidence or accident. It was his will.”

“So, what’s the endgame?”

“For Lucifer, the endgame is obvious. He wants to use Jack and his power to bring the end of all things. But, unlike Amara who simply wanted oblivion, Lucifer wants to reign. To reign one must have subjects. The angels do not wish to be subjects to Lucifer and they seek to use Jack’s powers to win the war. They want to pit son against father.”

“What does Jack want?”

“I’m not sure. I can tell you that he does want to find his father, but I can’t tell you why. Whether he’s inclined to join Lucifer or destroy him is a mystery to me. I can also tell you that Jack truly does want to create a paradise on earth. But, what I can’t tell you is how Jack defines paradise.”

“Well, if he was hell bent on opening the door to that wasteland, I think the smart money says he likes it there. I mean, nobody opens the door to a place they don’t wanna go… not humans, not angels, not even demons.”

“I think you’re right about that Dean. And I can see now that it was a mistake to allow this child to be born. I was weak.”

“You got played.”

“Yes. Again. I should’ve taken Kelly to heaven while the child was still inside her. If I had, this would all be over. But now -

“Now we have another mess to clean up. But, ya know what? I’m startin’ to get used to that. The world’s in danger again and so what, right? The world’s always in danger from somthin’. I’m like, not even that worried about it anymore. It’s like, yeah, we’ve got to try’n save the world again. But, somehow, it’s just Tuesday.”

“It’s Wednesday, Dean.”

Dean held his tongue and let his hand fall heavily on the steering wheel. His angel, always a bit too literal. But somehow, over the years it had ceased to be annoying, or even funny. It was just part of who he was - and Dean loved who he was. 

“I have felt Jack’s power,” said Cas thoughtfully, “and it is considerable. An ordinary Nephilim has grace and it makes them far more powerful than humans. But, they can easily be killed. They are not a serious threat to angels. But, as the offspring of the most powerful angel ever created, Jack is unique. And, he has a link to his father. They can feel one another. With time, they will probably be able to actually communicate using that link. I think we need to find Jack and kill him. Now. Before he grows any stronger.”

“Damn straight.”

They rode in comfortable silence for a while before Dean’s churning mind settled on another question. “Hey Cas?”

“Yes?”

“How’d ya get away? From the other angels, I mean.”

“Something happened and the entire company left to respond to it. Once I was left unguarded, it was easy enough to escape. Of course, I had nowhere to go. Bobby was the only one in that world who wasn’t trying to either catch me or kill me. So, it was him that I sought out.”

“He helped you?”

“In a manner of speaking. From him I learned that the Lucifer from this world had been deposited into that one. That was what the angels had all left me behind to deal with.

“It was quite upsetting for Bobby and his people to have a second Lucifer released in their realm. Sadly, your mother bore the brunt of their anger. She was seen coming through with him and they blamed her for his being there. If it weren’t for Bobby, they would have let the angels have her.”

“Damn. I guess I owe Bobby one in this life and the next. He’s saved Winchester hide more times than I can count.”

“We have to help them, Dean. They’re losing.”

“We will Cas. We will.”

“What are your plans,  Dean?”

“Plans? You’ve known me this long and you think I have plan?”

“I know that look. You’re considering something.”

“Yeah. I am. But unless you’ve got wings, it’s gonna have to wait.”

“I’m sorry Dean. I’m afraid the only flying I can do is on an airplane.”

Dean chuckled and leaned forward to turn on the radio. But, with or without music, Dean’s exhaustion was starting to take it’s toll. “You think you can drive for a while? Let me get a few hours shut eye?”

“Of course Dean.”

After switching Drivers, Dean settled against his window. Mom was back and so was Cas. In that, Dean found some semblance of peace - and the ability to rest easy. Life would go on as it always had... with the world in peril at the hands of a fearsome new entity whose powers they didn’t fully understand. Yep. Same ol’ same old. Tuesday. Wednesday. What the fuck ever day. 

It felt like the blink of an eye and he was already being awakened. Squinting against bright light, Dean pulled his arm up over his face. “W-What time is it?”

“It’s 6:30 am. We’re still a few hours from Sioux Falls. We’re in need of fuel.”

“Why’d you wake me? Are you too tired to keep driving?”

“No, I can continue to drive. But I have no means to pay for the gas we require.”

Nodding with his eyes still shut, Dean wiggled his fingers down into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. As Cas took it from him, Dean said, “Lemme have your coat.”

“Certainly,” responded Cas. He could feel the jerking movements as Castiel tugged himself out of his trench and handed it over. Dean pulled it over his head to block out the bright morning sunshine and then easily slipped back to sleep. When the coat was tugged off of him, Dean opened his eyes to clear daylight. Rubbing at his face to clear his crusty eyes, Dean looked around and found that they were coasting into town. He woke up slowly as he directed his friend through Sioux Falls and into Jody’s driveway. 

He was stiff from having slept sitting up and his neck was aching from it, but he felt much better now that he’d gotten some rest. Climbing out of the car, Dean stood and stretched for a minute or two before walking up the sidewalk with Castiel and ringing her doorbell. 

Jody answered with a wide smile, and as they entered the scent of bacon enveloped them. Dean’s stomach reacted by twisting hungrily. Jody’s face was comical when she was introduced to Castiel. She stammered reverently through an awkward handshake, much like Sam had done years ago when he’d met the angel Castiel for the first time. 

Following Jody into the kitchen, Dean was startled as  Alex came barreling around a blind corner and brushed past them. She called out to them in passing that she was late and would see them later. Then she was gone. Claire, Dean was told, hadn’t crawled out of bed yet. As the three of them piled into the small kitchen, Donna was setting a large platter of steaming food on the table. She welcomed them warmly and then fumbled her way through meeting Castiel. She was adorably flustered and her eyes were shining as she invited them all to sit and eat while continuing to lavish attention on Cas.  

“After gettin’ up close and personal with vampires and werewolves and anything else with claws or fangs,” grinned Donna, “it’s nice to actually meet one of the good guys; yeah - you betcha.”

Donna had taken some getting used to at first, but even in the early days, Dean had liked her spunk. She had a ‘go get ‘em’ attitude that he appreciated and, unlike most others, she actually laughed at his jokes. Over heaping portions of carb-heavy breakfast food, Jody and Donna brought them up to speed on who they’d interviewed so far, what clues they’d found, and the sad fact that all had led to nothing but dead ends. 

“I’ll call Sammy after we eat,” said Dean between bites. “He’s gonna be helpin’ us out with the research stuff from back at the bunker.”

“He emailed me this morning,” replied Jody, “He found a couple things we missed.”

“Like what?”

“One of the locals who went missing was an electrician that never returned to the worksite after his lunch break,” said Jody, rising as she spoke to begin clearing the table. “I guess Sam found that he’d actually swiped his debit card at Biggerson’s on the day he went missing. The time stamp indicates him paying at 12:58 pm.”

“So, sounds like he had lunch at Biggerson’s before he disappeared, huh?” 

“Possibly,” said Jody, “maybe one of the wait staff will remember having seen him. I thought we could ride over there this morning and ask some questions before they get busy with the lunch rush.”

“Good idea,” confirmed Dean, pushing away from the table to help clean up. 

Cas stood by, watching with vague interest as Dean helped the girls with dishes. Dean threw him a wink when their eyes met, though afterwards he wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Cas favored him with a small smile in response though, and Dean noticed that his angel settled into a more relaxed posture after that. 

After kitchen duty, Dean ducked into the bathroom to change into his suit and when he came back out, a bleary-eyed Claire had joined the others. Her hair was wild and frizzy, her skin was blotchy and her eyes were rimmed in red.

“Well, bout time you dragged your hung-over ass out of bed,” joked Dean.

“I’m not hung-over,” pouted Claire.

“She’s not even drinking age,” snapped Jody.

“I was up late doing some research,” explained Claire. Turning to Jody, the young girl said, “Sorry I missed breakfast.”

“We saved you a plate,” Jody smiled warmly. 

As Claire put her back to him and headed to the kitchen, Dean teased her saying, “Time to rise and shine and hunt like a dumbass.”

“I learned it from you,” she tossed back as she pulled her plate from the fridge.

“FBI agents don’t show up to question witnesses with bed head.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Claire slid a sausage patty between two pancakes to make a sandwich and bit into it without even bothering to heat it up in the microwave. Then, she put her back to them and headed down the hall towards her room. “Don’t leave without me,” she warned as she disappeared..

“We shouldn’t all show up there,” said Dean to Jody. “There’s five of us and too many agents showing up together would look strange.”

“Well,” sighed Jody, casting a glance over at Donna, “we could split up. While you were changing, we heard from Sam again.”

“And?”

“And it looks like our missing soccer mom cleared out her bank account on the same day she went missing. In person.”

“And your initial investigation didn’t catch that?”

“No, her husband provided us a list of accounts. We checked those and flagged her credit cards, the usual drill. And of course we ran a general information sweep of her name. But Sam found this account under her maiden name. That’s why we didn’t catch it. If the husband knew about it, he didn’t disclose it. The account didn’t have a lot of money in it, less than five grand. So, maybe it was just an old rainy day fund.”

“Or she was saving up to leave him,” supplied Donna..

“We’ll need to interview the husband again,” replied Jody..

“We’ll take the bank,” replied Dean firmly, “You two take Claire to Biggerson’s. Introduce her as a rookie who’s shadowing you. That should explain having a third.”

“I think interviews are the best part,” grinned Donna.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I get to wear my power suit, for starters. Plus, no one’s ever tried to eat me during an interview.”

“Interview me,” he said as he winked at her flirtatiously. He’d always loved the way Donna would light up when he flirted with her. This time, however, she didn’t swoon. She didn’t laugh at the joke either. Strange. He watched her look over at Jody and the two shared a knowing smile… as if  _ they _ were humoring  _ him _ . It was odd and unsettling. Glancing at Cas, he noticed a forlorn look on his angel’s face. It only took a beat for him to realize why. Claire had come and gone from the room and not even spoken to him.

Before he even had a chance to think it over, Dean found himself addressing Donna and Jody again. “Ya know what,” he said, “why don’t me n Cas bring Claire with us. It’ll give her chance to see how the big dogs do it.”

Just as he said that, Claire came walking into the room. “How the big dogs do what? Hump a leg?”

Dean chuckled and got to his feet. “You’ve definitely got the art of the quick change down,” he told her, skimming his eyes over her pantsuit. She’d managed to tame the haystack of blonde hair into a tight bun and with a notebook tucked under arm, she looked every bit the part of an eager young rookie, ready to take the world by storm. “You with us or not?” he challenged.

“Oh yeah,” she teased sarcastically “any chance to roll with the big dogs.”

Dean watched as she turned to finally acknowledge Cas. She said, “Hey,” to him by way of a greeting and then thumped his shoulder as she walked past. Dean, following her towards the door, glanced over at the angel and saw him lift his chin a tad. His facial features were softer now too; just a word from her had made a noticeable difference.

As they exited Jody’s living room, the group agreed to meet back at the house afterwards to compare notes. Castiel graciously settled into the backseat, allowing Claire to sit up front. She bantered with both of them as they headed downtown and Dean could see the girl was surging with excitement. Claire may have defaulted into a hunting life by circumstance, but she seemed to revel in it. She certainly had a hunter’s temperament. Much like any other hunter, she came alive when there was a monster to hunt. In the absence of one, she quickly grew restless and unhappy. Dean had seen glimpses of these traits in her before, but had deluded himself into attributing her moods and behaviors to teen angst and rebellion. The truth was staring at him now, sitting in his front seat and practically vibrating with enthusiasm. Claire wasn’t a child or even a teen anymore. She was a young woman, strong and healthy and far more accepting of her life choices than either Dean or Cas had been while watching her make them. 

But, with this being the fourth hunt he’d been on with Claire, there was no denying what she’d become. Though still young and inexperienced - Claire was a hunter. 

Rolling into the parking garage on Main, he barked a rough warning to Claire. Better to scold her and leave her sulking than to have her exuberance cause trouble inside. Then, with her pouting between them, Dean and Cas took the elevator down to the main floor of the garage. Exiting and stepping out into the street, Dean glanced around. This part of Sioux Falls was idyllic, boasting mature shade trees in huge cement planters and old fashioned lamp posts with bushels of flowers adorning them just out of reach. Liberty National Bank was two stories, the lower level done in traditional brick and the upper level in concrete and glass. The front entry doors were framed in marble and, as the three stepped through them, Dean was already looking around at the layout, the presence and position of uniformed guards, and the angle of each security camera.  

Crossing the open floor, Dean took the lead, approaching the closest security guard and boldly displaying his credentials. As always, he held his identification out long enough to not appear evasive but just far enough away to make it difficult to focus on any details. He then pocketed it again before giving the man time enough to study it or even commit his name to memory. Introducing himself and his partner, he gave Claire nothing more than a passing mention as he pretended to be put out with having to bring her along. Dean stated that they’d been sent here to assist the local sheriff’s department with a missing person’s case and asked for both the head of security and the bank manager. He then waited patiently as his request was called in on the man’s hand-held radio. 

When they were approached first, it was by the branch manager. After being shown badges, the man did put in a call to the local sheriff’s department to verify FBI involvement, but thanks to Jody that went smooth as silk. So, they were already engaged in conversation with the manager when the head of security approached them. Taking the lead, Dean introduced himself and the others and requested they be shown the security tapes from the date in question. 

A few minutes later, they were being given seats before a wide bank of screens. With the help of their guide, the banking transaction in question was located and displayed on screen. The woman at the counter was quite average in appearance and did not appear to be under duress.There was no audio but it was easy to see when the teller directed the woman over to an adjacent area where she’d be helped by someone behind a desk rather than at the teller window.

As they sifted through the footage available of her from several different camera views, Dean pretended to be drilling their rookie charge with questions. In reality, he was giving her an opportunity to flex her wings and be part of the process. When they’d been over the views from all six of the different cameras, both interior and exterior, Dean turned to face Claire with a stern look and said, “Agent Ford,” what can you tell me about our subject?”

Playing along brilliantly, she replied as a field agent likely would, citing the subject’s appearance in bureau appropriate terminology and then moving on to details about her demeanor as well as her interactions with bank personnel in the videos. The subject really did have the appearance of an average soccer mom - not the glorified version shown on minivan commercials but the real life ones who carried an extra twenty pounds, clutched knock off handbags, and almost always wore their hair in a ponytail or bun. 

Leaning in and looking Claire in the eye, Dean pressed her. “And what important detail do you notice about the subject as she’s entering the bank?”

Claire had no answer, but he wanted her to be the one to see the only clue they’d found here. He wanted her to make the connection without being told. “Agent Ford, Lita, look again at the images from camera six… the exterior shots of the main entrance taken from the sidewalk cam. There’s something we shouldn’t overlook.”

As Claire leaned in and rewound the clip again, Dean glanced over at Cas. In his trenchcoat, Castiel was watching their exchange intently. 

“Is that what I think it is?” she whispered, backing up the clip again.

“I think it is,” said Dean. 

From behind them, the head of security was leaning in to look closer. He was obviously curious about what he should be seeing on the monitor... what detail Dean was working so hard to get his trainee to see.

“It could be a coincidence,” Dean allowed.

“But it’s not,” she answered firmly.

“What is?” asked the bank’s security man.

“On her way into the building,” answered Claire, clicking to freeze the frame, “she threw something away.”

“Zoom in,” he told her, again glancing over at Cas. His friend was watching Claire as if he were seeing her on television. 

“It’s just garbage,” said the man in charge of security.

“It’s a bag,” replied Claire, her eyes still focused on the screen, “a take out bag from Biggerson’s. She must’ve had lunch there before coming to the bank. That puts her at the same place at the same time as the electrician who disappeared. This is the last time they were seen alive.”

Dean looked from Claire to Cas and then back to Claire and asked, “Who’s hungry?” 


	5. The First Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, I must tip my hat to the lovely Destiella who still isn't tired of fixing all my mistakes. Yay!

Claire was elated as they headed to the car, bouncing along and chattering to both of them about today’s work as well as the interview she and Jody had done with the missing woman’s husband. She was lit up like a child at Christmas and pondering what they might uncover if they dug a little deeper at Biggerson’s. Her speculations about what they might be hunting ran the gamut as they languished in mid-day traffic.

Dean loved that as she chattered to them, she kept glancing into the backseat to include Cas in the discussion. He watched his friend in the rear view mirror, but Cas didn’t look at him once. He was fully engaged in Claire. As he considered the lack of eye contact, Dean realized that he’d grown used to Cas’ eyes meeting with his in the rear view mirror. Whenever the angel had joined them on a hunt, he’d almost always been sequestered in the back seat and Dean could never seem to keep from checking in the mirror, curious about what expression the angel might be wearing, whether he’d fallen asleep or not, or what mood he seemed to be in.

As they neared the restaurant, Dean put in a call to Jody to let her know they were coming. The timing was such that Jody and Donna had just walked outside, having gleaned nothing new from their follow up interviews. Jody had said they’d be waiting, so when Dean pulled into the parking lot he wasn’t surprised to see both women leaning up against Jody’s truck. He was surprised, however, to see how friendly they looked. He’d always had the feeling that Jody was only tolerating Donna, but to see the way they interacted over breakfast and now out in the field, he realized that they’d grown very close as Donna got her feet wet in the hunting world.

Once he had parked, they all huddled together to go over the bits and pieces of information they’d gathered. Then, together, they walked into Biggerson’s. The place was busy, the lunch rush in full swing. Rather than hassle the staff at a bad time, Dean suggested they grab a table and have lunch first.

Watching Cas dig into a double bacon burger, Dean was certain that lunch had been a good idea. Claire sank into chili cheese fries while both Donna and Jody had ordered far healthier fare. When the rush had dwindled, they paid the bill and asked to speak to the manager again. She appeared tired when she emerged from the back with several different foods staining her shirt.

Jody stepped up to introduce Dean and Cas as the FBI agents who were assisting on her missing persons case. Dean pulled Claire forward, introducing her a his trainee, and then informed the manager that a second missing person now had ties to this particular Biggerson’s location on the date of the disappearances. He inquired about video surveillance only to be disappointed.

“We only have two cameras,” she replied. “There’s one positioned with a view of the cash register and the other’s out back, where the trucks unload.”

“We’ll need to get a look at your footage from the sixth,” he told her.

She indicated for them to follow and then led them to a cramped office in the back. There was only one chair and she plunked down in it. As she busied herself with finding the correct disk, their group huddled into the small space and clustered around her chair so as to watch the single monitor.

The images displayed were grainy and difficult to see. They had to back up and rewatch over and over. The register cam only glimpsed their soccer mom for a few moments and from an awkward angle. It was obvious that this camera was positioned to watch the cashier handle money, not to see what the customers were doing. But, the soccer mom wasn’t the only person of interest in the frame. To Dean’s surprise, Jody pointed out a man in the background of the video, next in line to pay behind the soccer mom, and told them that he was the missing electrician. In fact, he and the woman appeared to exchange a few words as the transaction was taking place.

Leaning in, Dean gasped as he saw a familiar face also crowded into the background. It was there and gone in a heartbeat, but it struck a nerve with him. “Stop,” he barked, startling the manager and causing her to jump in her seat. “Back it up.”

When she did, Dean grabbed Cas by the arm and said, “Look close… see that guy?” Beside him, Cas was squinting at the monitor. “No, which guy?”

“That one,” said Dean, putting his finger tip to a nondescript face that almost blended into the crowd of people around the counter. Some were lined up to pay and some were waiting to be seated. From the shitty angle of the camera, it was difficult to see who was waiting for what. “Does he look familiar to you?” Dean asked, positioning his finger to indicate the man in question.

“No, he’s not familiar at all.”

“I guess he wouldn’t be,” relented Dean, remembering how things had gone down at the cabin.

“Who is it?” asked both Cas and Claire in unison.

Dean took a deep breath and dropped his finger from the screen. Looking cautiously over at Cas, Dean said, “That’s Jack.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting everyone on the same page. That meant telling Jody, Donna, and Claire about how royally they’d screwed the pooch at the cabin. Both he and Cas wound up answering questions all afternoon. Between the dialog with the Sioux Falls gang, and phone conversations with the bunker, Dean was exhausted.

“Okay,” said Sam, his voice coming sounding tinny on the speakerphone, “So we know that the vics all had a connection. They were all at Biggerson’s over the noon hour on the day they disappeared.”

“Yep,” Dean agreed. Sadly, that was all they knew. There was nothing to get them moving in any particular direction and no clue as to where to find any of these people.

“With nothing else to go on, I think we should follow the money,” said Sam.

“How do you plan to do that?” Dean asked tersely.

“It’ll take some time,” answered Sam, his voice conferring patience. “But if our soccer mom’s first move after meeting Jack was to empty her secret account, then it seems safe to assume that our electrician probably made a similar move.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” replied Dean.

“I’ll do some more digging tonight, see what I can find. I’ll give you guys a call in the morning,” concluded Sam, “let you know what I found out.”

“Okay, Sammy.”

“And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep. You sound like you need it.”

Dean ended the call without giving his brother the satisfaction of an answer. In the moment of silence that followed, Claire stepped up to him boldly and said, “Her name was Stephanie. Stop calling her ‘soccer mom’.”

Cas’ mouth ticked, a flicker of smile gracing his lips for the blink of an eye and then gone. Clearly he was amused.

“You bet,” Dean replied on an exhale, knowing better than to argue. Then, looking over at Cas, he said, “I could use an afternoon nap. Whaddaya say we go book a room?”

“I’d bunk you boys up here if I had the space,” lamented Jody. “But the girls each have a room and now with Donna here…”

“Don’t worry about it,” replied Dean as he pulled her into a warm hug. “We’re big boys, we can take care of ourselves.”

He’d gotten in a few cat naps, but after a week on almost no sleep, he was still feeling shortchanged. A couple drinks and a solid night’s sleep in a decent bed sounded great. But, remembering the promise he’d made himself regarding Cas, Dean decided to settle for a bit less sleep than his body was owed. Tonight, he thought, was a good night to begin introducing his angel to the many reasons why Earth, more specifically the bunker, should be his permanent home.  

“Hey Lita Ford,” he said jokingly to Claire, using her recent hunting alias, “Wanna have a little fun tonight?”

“And your idea of fun is..?”

“How ‘bout a rematch at mini golf after dinner,” he grinned. “Double or nothin’.”

“You’re on,” she smiled.

“Great,” he said, dropping his arm around Cas’s shoulders, “I’m gonna go grab some shut eye. Me ‘n Cas will be back for supper and afterwards, we’ll show our feathered friend here how it’s done.”

“Dinner’s at 8,” smiled Jody as he herded Cas towards the door.

“See you for supper,” he called out as they exited.A home cooked meal at Jody’s place sounded far better than nuking taquitos at the Gas-n-Sip. Cas didn’t say much as they got into the car and drove. Dean watched the road signs, selecting the truck route which was usually the best way to locate a cheap motel room.

As he’d grieved for Cas, Dean had promised himself that if he were ever reunited with his angel, he’d give him reasons to stay… help him fall in love with life on Earth… essentially, show him a good time so he’d know what he was missing when he flitted off to parts unknown. Like heaven.

He’d always done what he could to foster a relationship between Claire and Cas because he cared about both of them. But now, with his own agenda regarding Cas, he felt that bonding between the two was even more important. Having fond memories of time spent with Claire would help Cas see that his place was here on Earth. Essentially, she was his first reason to stay. There would be others, Dean would see to it. But, yeah, Claire was reason numero uno.

When Dean’s eyes caught sight of a huge, ugly sign that was left over from the late sixties or early seventies, he turned in. The Nites Inn looked dated but relatively clean, which was perfect. When he went into the office to secure a room, Dean briefly toyed with the idea of getting a single just to induce some seemingly innocent bed-sharing. The thought was far more appealing than he cared to admit.

But, in the end, he didn’t do it. He asked for a double queen room because he knew that he didn’t want to lie to his friend and make up some bullshit story about the motel not having any doubles available. Yes, Dean absolutely wanted to tuck in with Cas, close quarters, and see what might happen. Perhaps they’d bump knees during the night, or maybe Cas would accidentally roll over and drape an arm over him. Moments alone with Castiel were rare and Dean wanted to take advantage. But what he didn’t want to do was lie to Cas or manipulate him. If they wound up in bed together, Dean didn’t want to have to feel guilty about how it had come about.

By the time they’d gotten settled in the room, Dean was crashing. “I’m gonna grab some shut eye,” he told Cas, dropping onto the bed nearest the door. “Can you wake me when it’s time to head back over for dinner?”

“Of course, Dean.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep, despite knowing that Cas would likely feel duty bound to ‘watch over him’. It was a bit creepy to know someone was staring at you while you slept. But at the same time, though he hated to admit it, it was comforting to know that Cas was there and attending to him in some capacity. Even if it wasn’t exactly the way he’d prefer to be attended to.

Waking was a bitch, his body screaming that five more minutes wasn’t much to ask. But the call of home cooking was incentive enough to propel him to the shower. From there, it was easier to wake up. Dinner was delicious, as he’d known it would be, a huge roast with baked carrots and new potatoes. Conversation flowed easily, touching loosely on the case a few times but mostly hovering around the day to day life of their friends.

Alex, Dean found out, was now enrolled full time at Augustana college as a Journalism major. She was still living at home with Jody, but was vocal about plans to live on campus the following year. She kept the group entertained with stories of her freshman fumbles and the antics of other students in her study groups and other social circles. Dean picked up on some thinly veiled references to parties, but kept his mouth shut as he wondered if Jody was catching them too.

Surprisingly, Claire was mentioned in some of the stories Alex told, a testament to the girls spending some time together, even if the sibling rivalry wasn’t completely dispelled. And Claire, it seemed, had really begun to embrace her family life here. It was good to see Jody’s fledgling family come together, finally.

Dean was stunned to find out that Donna wasn’t just here helping with the case but had, in fact, been living here for quite some time. To hear her tell it, she’d been sinking deeper and deeper into a funk after her relationship with a second officer named Doug had crashed and burned.

When Jody told her that a change of scenery might do her good, she’d decided to accept the offer to come visit for a while. She’d intended to simply take some time off work and visit for a week or two… she’d instead wound up accepting an open position at the county sheriff's department here in Sioux Falls. She’d been crashing at Jody’s ever since.

Jody’s face had been warm and loving as she’d showered praise on Donna’s cooking and the way she’d fit right in with her and the girls. It was when Claire and Alex exchanged a pointed look that Dean had started to read more into the relationship between his two favorite lady hunters. Was there something more between them than friendship? Intrigued with the idea of a possible love affair between them, Dean decided to watch their interactions more closely going forward.

Once the table was cleared, Dean began extracting Claire and Cas for their golf excursion. He wound up extending an invitation for Alex to join them, simply because he couldn’t bear to exclude her. But, thankfully, she declined in favor of staying home to work on an English Lit paper she’d been putting off. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to spend time with Alex, it was more that he wanted to be sure that Cas and Claire were able to bond without distractions.

And they did bond, at least a little. Claire had never really welcomed Castiel into her life and that was understandable. It can’t be easy to define and participate in a relationship with someone who is the identical twin of your dead father… let alone someone who was ultimately responsible for not only your dad’s death but, by extension, your mother’s as well.

The two had shared a few bonding moments in the past, but things between them were still complicated at best. But, as the three of them played through 18 holes of goofy golf and took a few spins around the go-kart track, Dean could see that Claire was making an effort to really get to know the angel who had shattered her life and then saved it.

“I don’t know how to communicate with her at all,” Cas had complained when they got back in the car after dropping Claire off at Jody’s.

“That ain’t just you buddy,” chuckled Dean. “She’s at an age where nobody really knows how to talk to her. But ya did great Cas, I mean it.”

“I did not. She insults me constantly and I can’t talk back to her the way you do. I feel too guilty for what I’ve done to her and I still don’t have a solid grasp on the cadences of a young person’s vocabulary.”

“She’s not insulting you, Cas, she’s playing. She’s having fun. When she teases you like that, it means she’s accepting you. If she hated you, she’d freeze you out. You remember what that was like, right?”

“So, when she makes fun of my clothing or the way I talk, it means she accepts me?”

“Yeah, man, it means she accepts that you are different and likes you anyway.”

“Claire likes me?”

“Yeah, Cas. She does.”

Cas quieted as he seemed to contemplate this. When they arrived back at the motel, Dean wasn’t tired at all. But, he knew he should sleep because his body still needed the rest even if he was currently a bit keyed up from their night out. Dean grabbed his weapon against insomnia, the whiskey bottle, and flopped down on one of the beds. Kicking his boots off, he took a deep drink and watched Cas look around the room. It was obvious that the angel was trying to decide where to perch.

Not wanting to seem bossy, Dean bit down on his instinct to tell Cas that he should take off his coat and sit down. Instead, he used the remote to turn on the TV and tried to find something to watch that might hold his attention, sipping from his bottle as he flicked through mindless late-night programming.

Cas seemed to relax a little just knowing that Dean wasn’t watching him expectantly. Dean, in turn, was able to fully relax on the bed when Cas stepped tentatively into the space and took his place on the opposite bed. Despite the fact that they weren’t sharing, they were still in close proximity, only separated by the nightstand.

Taking another long swig, Dean then offered the bottle over to Cas. His friend took it and tipped it back like an expert. Dean had no idea how much it would actually take for Cas to get a buzz, but that’s what he was contemplating when Cas spoke again.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You said that when Claire insults me, she’s accepting me. Does that go for all humans, or just for the young ones of Claire’s age?”

“Depends,” signed Dean, taking the bottle back for another drink, “I mean, the older people get, the more complicated they get.”

“Indeed.”

Dean downed another swallow and reached out to offer Cas another drink. The angel took some and immediately handed the bottle back. Dean took another healthy pull, gritting his teeth as the burn worked it’s way down his throat. He was ruminating on how to put his thoughts into words that Cas might understand. But before he could speak,Castiel posed another question.

“How do I tell Claire how I feel about her?”

“How do you feel about her?”

“I want to help her. I want good things for her - happiness, fulfillment, love.”

“Well, I’m no expert on tellin’ people how I feel,” admitted Dean honestly. “For some reason, it’s hard for me. Always has been. But the people I love, I think they know it. Even if they never hear me say it.”

Cas grew quiet again on the heels of statement and Dean had no idea what his friend was thinking. But he did notice himself getting a bit fuzzy. The alcohol was doing its job; he was going to be sleepy soon. Wanting to sink into oblivion, Dean tipped the bottle back once more, downing a final swig that he hoped would pull him under. Then, he handed Cas the bottle back and flicked out the light. As he rolled over onto his side and pulled the pillow up under his head, Cas whispered “Good night, Dean.”

“Nite Cas,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. As he settled in and let sleep take him down, he wished that Cas would just crawl into bed with him. More than anything else, he wanted to be held by his angel.

He’d felt those arms wrapped around him before, when he was rescued from hell, he'd borne the mark to prove it. But now, earthbound, he could only guess at how that might have felt. It just didn’t seem fair that he’d managed to retain so many wretched, horrifying memories from his time in the pit. But yet somehow the rapture of being safely ensconced in the mighty arms of his angel as he was lifted out... that memory was lost to him. This cruel injustice was all he could think of as he waited for sleep to take him under. 

From behind him, in the dark, Dean heard Cas tip the bottle back again.


	6. Montana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Destiella, for all your work to make this more readable.

When Dean woke in the morning, Cas was stretched out on the other bed.  He was still leaning back against the headboard, as he’d been when Dean had gone to sleep, but now his head was tipped back and his eyes were closed, face relaxed and peaceful.

Though angels supposedly didn’t sleep or need rest, Cas had often been the exception to that rule - especially when he was compromised. Watching his angel for a moment, Dean had to acknowledge that he liked seeing him like this. It wasn’t right, he knew that. He should want Cas to be healthy, operating at full power, the most perfect and glorious version of himself. But, it was impossible to deny how much he liked seeing the human side of this celestial being… the one who loved peanut butter sandwiches and juicy burgers, the one who watched television for hours on end and became emotionally invested, the one that Dean could actually relate to and understand. The one that Dean might actually have a chance with.

The empty whiskey bottle was perched on the nightstand and Dean deposited it quietly in the trash can as he headed for the shower, taking his duffel bag with him. It was still early, the sun just starting to rise, so he didn’t hurry. He took care of a little business while he was in there. As he often did, Dean pondered Castiel’s physicality while he got himself off. He knew that Cas had experienced sex when he was human, and he knew that his friend had been able to get a boner, even as full-powered angel. He had, after all, gotten a stiffie while watching porn and he’d done that with both him and Sammy in the room. That felt like a lifetime ago now, though the years between could be counted on fingers.

Wondering about the size and shape of his angels member was probably sacrilege of the worst kind. In fact, he’d processed a lot of shame over the years; feeling guilty over his lustful imaginings about a creature who wasn’t even the same species and was, by his own nature, pure and holy. These days, however, Dean had long gotten over the stigma and had learned to simply bite his lip when he came. Doing so kept him from accidentally uttering Cas’s name which was always on his lips at the moment of his release. The last thing he needed was to have Cas hear his pleasure-filled moan and think Dean’s whisper to be a prayer which, yeah, it kind of was, but still...

Coming out of the bathroom refreshed and ready, Dean saw that Cas was on his feet. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, Dean.”

Neither said much on the way over to Jody’s place. Again they ate, gathered as a group at her table. Alex didn’t stay, eating quickly and leaving for class in a rush. But Claire, more rested than she’d been yesterday, sat with them and bantered as she ate. Jody and Donna were the first to get up and start putting things away at the end of the meal, but they all assisted. Cas, having watched this process once, also joined in to help in the clean-up effort. It was as they were finishing up that Dean’s ringtone filled the room. Answering, Dean was greeted by Sam asking where he was.

“I’m at Jody’s place with Cas. Claire’s here and so are Jody and Donna.”

“Put me on speaker.”

Dean motioned for everyone to sit back down at the table and did as his brother asked. “Okay,” he said as he set his phone in the middle, “we’re all listening. What didja find out?”

“Well, I tried to follow the money to track our electrician-

“Does our electrician have a name?” barked Claire.

“Yes, sorry Claire, his name is Fred.”

“Okay,” Dean pressed. “And what did you find when you followed Fred’s money?”

“That he didn’t have any,” laughed Sam. “His mother, however, had plenty. And as it turns out, Fred was in charge of all her assets. On the day he disappeared, he cashed a personal check from her that he’d made out to himself.”

“Douche move, Fred,” Dean huffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, Fred didn’t make any effort to cover his tracks Dean. He left a trail all the way to Montana.”

“Montana? What’s in Montana?”

“I don’t know Dean, but I’m starting to see that this case is bigger than we originally thought.”

“How so?”

“For starters, South Dakota isn’t the only state with a recent spike in disappearances. Washington, Idaho, and Wyoming are also dealing with an unprecedented number of new missing persons cases. Mom’s been helping me with this and we’ve compiled a list of the missing and tapped into federal and state databases. We found that many of the people who are currently missing took money with them. Most of them didn’t take obvious money, which falls in line with what the Sioux Falls people have done, but some of them did. Some of these people just cleared out their bank accounts and left. Some even took their own cars. The sloppier ones were easy to track and I’ve got numerous trails of money that all lead to central Montana.”

“I don’t know what to make of this,” admitted Dean, looking around the table.

“You need to hit the road and check it out,” said Sam firmly. “I’m going to keep working on this from here and try to get you a more precise location. But, Dean, you guys should probably be heading west. Mom’s talking about maybe meeting you guys there. I’ll keep you posted.”

After the call ended, Dean looked to Jody. “Wanna go to Montana?”

“I-I can’t,” she stammered, “I mean, sure I want to, but I can’t just run off. I have the department to run. I have a shift this afternoon… I have Alex…”

“I’m in,” said Claire firmly.

Dean watched Jody’s head whip around and her eyes land on their little hunter-in-training. It was obvious that the sheriff's knee-jerk reaction was to forbid it. But, she softened a moment later and said, “I know you are.”

Jody’s gaze slowly moved from Claire to Donna and Dean watched as Donna nodded back to Jody and said, “I’ll go with her. You stay here. Take care of things at work and be here for Alex.”

Jody gave a solemn nod of agreement and replied, “You keep in touch.”

“We will. Every day.”

“Twice a day,” said Jody with a soft smile.

As the two women were speaking, Claire got up from her seat and walked around the table. Leaning in, she gave Jody a hug and whispered, “Thank you,” and Dean smiled having overheard it.

“Well,” said Jody, appearing to focus on keeping her face stern, “It looks like everyone’s got some packing to do.” Then, she looked at Dean and said, “Do you need anything?”

After thinking it over, he said no. The trunk was stocked. They were ready. “We’ll go get our stuff and check out of the motel,” he told the ladies. “Can you be ready to head out in an hour?”

“You betcha,” answered Donna cheerfully as she got up from the table.

It didn’t take long for Dean and Cas to get over to the motel and gather the few things they’d left there. When they arrived back at Jody’s, Dean was surprised to see Claire and Donna in the driveway, packing supplies into the back of a late model Taurus.

“What’s all this?” he asked, leaning out his window as he navigated his baby up the driveway next to them.

Claire rolled her eyes and said, “You told us to pack, Captain Obvious.”

“Well yeah,” he snarked back at her, “but why ya packin’ up the grocery getter? You too good to ride in my baby?”

“Heya Dean,” smiled Donna, walking up and dropping one last bag into the trunk before closing it. “Ready to get on the road?”

“You takin’ your own ride?”

“Seems like a good idea,” she answered, perching her her hand on hip. “That way we can split up if we need to. Besides, didn’t you say it looks funny for there to be so many of us?”

“I s’pose,” he shrugged. Actually, it was a good thought.

“Well alrighty then, we’re all set to roll out. Are you?” she asked with a smile.

“Yep.”

“Well then, follow me,” she grinned. “I’ve already got the route loaded in my GPS.”

Dean didn’t like the idea of following anybody anywhere. But, with no viable argument to make, he had to nod agreement and allow Donna to take the lead position. The drive across South Dakota was dull, its landscape flat and uninteresting and broken up only by the vague differences between crops. Plots of farmland flicked by outside Dean’s window - corn, wheat, and soybeans in endless rotation. Still, somehow Castiel managed to spend most of the ride looking out his window as though it was all mesmerizing. Perhaps he was deep in thought.

“Well, thank fuck for Donna’s GPS,” muttered Dean, “I mean, how else would we have gone in a straight line down I-90 for four straight hours.”

“Are you hungry Dean?” asked Cas without tearing his eyes away from the window.

“Hungry?”

“Yes. Often when you are hungry, you begin to express more frustration than is strictly necessary.”

For a beat, he found himself wondering if Cas was right. “Well, then,” he chuckled, “let’s feed me.”

They sent a text to Donna asking to stop and she took the next exit. Pulling into a truck stop on the east side of Rapid City, Dean and Donna both filled their tanks. Claire sauntered over to the Impala as Dean fueled up.

“I suppose you wanna eat at the diner?” she said acerbically.

“What’s wrong with the diner?”

“Poor Castiel is gonna think that there’s no decent food on the planet.”

“He doesn’t need to eat,” replied Dean, unable to resist arguing with her - even if it was foolish.

“He ate yesterday,” she threw back at him. “He eats when the food’s worth eating.”

“Fair point,” he allowed. “And I suppose you’ve got something in mind?”

“There’s a Sickies Garage right over there,” she said, pointing across to the other side of the interstate. “We’ve got one in Sioux Falls too… good food. Nice selection of beers.”

“Like you’ll be drinkin’,” he teased her.

It took a bit longer to eat at Claire’s chosen destination than it would’ve at the truck stop diner. But, as he tore into a delicious dinner, it was hard to care about a few extra minutes or a couple extra dollars. This was one of those places where ordering was actually fun and the food was creatively served and mouthwateringly good. The atmosphere was fun too. Hell, the four of them actually _had_ _fun_. As they finished up their food and drinks, Dean was thinking that he should be doing more stuff like this with Cas. That was part of his plan, right? For as long as Cas had been in his life, all Dean had shown him was the grind. An endless parade of cheap motel rooms, rotgut booze, and shitty food. It wasn’t exactly an enticing glimpse of life on Earth. No wonder Cas’s attitude seemed to embody ‘It’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live here’.

The scenery improved a great deal after their stop. Heading around the city and north through Sturgis, the landscape grew quite stunning. Castiel continued to stare from his window, and Dean wound up putting the music back on. The hills and valleys, covered in pines and stone and brush, began to glow as the sun sank low in the sky. The shadows of the trees grew long and Dean’s body began to protest his seated position. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet, but he was definitely ready to get out of the car.

It was dark when they rumbled into Gillette, Wyoming. Ready to be done for the day, Dean changed lanes and sped up until he was side-by-side with Donna. She nodded understanding to his hand gesture and he took the lead, pulling into the first inexpensive motel he saw. The Arrowhead motel had cheesy Indian feathers on its sign but it looked like his kind of place.

Dean walked into the office and booked two adjacent rooms. It only took a few minutes to get settled, and once he had, Dean stepped over to Donna and Claire’s room. Both were sitting cross legged, each on their own bed, laptops out and discussing the research they’d sunken into. Looking up at him from behind her computer screen, Donna asked Dean if there was any new information.

“Research is usually Sammy’s department,” chuckled Dean. “My department is checking out the local wildlife.”

Donna gave him an understanding smile and Claire rolled her eyes. “See you guys at breakfast,” he said as he ducked out. Then, poking his head back into his own room, Dean said, “Hey Cas, let’s go find some trouble.”

“What do you have in mind Dean?” asked Cas as he followed Dean to the Impala.

“There’s a shithole down the street with a two-for-one banner hangin’ up. Let’s go grab some beers.”

The place he’d spotted on the way to the motel was only a few blocks away. They probably could’ve walked.  But, he was already halfway there. When he saw the sign for The Other Side bar, Dean turned in and found a spot to park.

Considering how dumpy the exterior had looked, the inside was impressive. The crowd was young and fun. Country music was blaring and the there were rowdy whoops and hollers coming from the opposite end of the bar. Following the chaos, Dean cut through the crowd and found that half the dance floor had been temporarily given over for the purposes of setting up a mechanical bull. Dean couldn’t help but smile as he paused to watch from a distance. The bull was surrounded by air cushions, both on the ground and in a circle around the bull. Anyone thrown would land softly. The name of the rental company was imprinted on the cushion which had the look of a giant inflatable kiddie pool. The only difference was that instead of being bright blue or green as pools usually are, this plastic was done in shades of brown. The ground was dark brown like dirt and the inflatable walls were printed with the image of fence posts. The effect was a cartoonish bullpen with a very real-looking mechanical bull at its center.

Currently riding was a young woman in a halter top and daisy duke shorts. She looked hot, wearing her skimpy outfit and bright red boots, but the way she rode the bull on an easy setting and then put most of her energy into just looking sexy left Dean with a bad taste in his mouth. Years ago, he might have lingered to watch the show she put on. But now, for some reason, she annoyed him more than she tantalized him. Grabbing Cas by the shoulder, he spun him back towards the bar and said, “Let’s get a drink.”

Cas stood at the bar with him for quite a while, doing shots and watching the action as those who’d been standing in line to ride the bull took their turns. Dean couldn’t help it… he wanted to try. Yes, he’d done this before. And he’d been told he was good at it too. But he didn’t remember at all. “I think I might wanna try that,” admitted Dean.

“I don’t quite understand what’s meant to be fun about that,” replied Cas, “though it certainly seems that everyone is enjoying it.”

“Wanna try it? See what all the fuss is about?”

“I suppose,” agreed Castiel, far more easily than Dean would’ve expected.

Grinning like a fool, Dean ordered them bottles of Bud and led Cas through the crowd. As they took their places at the end of the line, Dean nursed his beer and watched as men and women alike started out at the slowest speed and were given a progressively wilder ride until they could hang on no more. For some, not much was needed to unseat them. Other’s hung on for a surprisingly noteable ride. The cheers and the jeers from the crowd seemed to be largely based on how entertaining the rider was to watch, and as they neared the front of the line, Dean was sad to find his beer empty. Sipping on it had given him something to do with his nervous energy.

Too soon, the person in front of them took their turn to mount up, leaving him and Cas as the next two riders. When it was Cas’ turn, the angel stepped up calmly, as though he did this sort of thing everyday.

“Wait!” barked Dean, “Gimme the damn coat.”

Cas turned to him with a questioning look.

“C’mon, man, I can’t let you ride a mechanical bull wearing that damn trenchcoat. Give it to me.”

Cas didn’t seem to understand, but he peeled out of the jacket anyway and handed it to Dean. He took two steps before pausing to look back at Dean again. “Here,” he said as he took off his suit jacket and handed that off as well. Then, rolling up his sleeves as he walked, Cas moved out into the spotlight. His awkward steps as he crossed the air cushioned “ground” at his feet made Dean smile and then, with a frown of concentration, Cas mounted the bull.

Dean watched in disbelief as an angel of the Lord received instructions from the operator and then followed them, putting one arm up in the air as the ride began to make wide, smooth circles. Cas seemed almost bored when his eyes locked with Dean’s, but as the operator bumped up the speed and difficulty, Cas broke into a smile. Dean was smiling too as he watched. Cas was rigid and precise in his movements, easily compensating for the machines jerky movements. As the skill level grew more impressive, Cas began earning genuine praise from the crowd. Women whistled and squealed and men egged him on. Dean was fascinated.

There came a time, however, when Castiel’s ability began to appear super-human. Dean grew uncomfortable as he wondered what people’s reactions would be if he continued showing mastery beyond that of even a bonafide bullrider.

He needn’t have worried though, because Cas seemed to have a similar thought. Dean wasn’t sure if anyone could see the moment when Cas decided to stop trying and just let himself be thrown, but Dean saw it plain as day. Applause swelled and a chorus of people cheered for Cas as he clambered to his feet and stepped toward the exit.

Being so wrapped up in Cas’s ride, Dean had forgotten that he was next. Someone behind him gave a shove, and with that, Dean found himself walking out into the circle. He foisted Cas’ garments over the sides of the little inflatable bullpen and as he took them, Cas smiled at Dean. It was a winning smile, and it was impossible not to smile back. He knew that Cas would be watching him from the sidelines, along with half the bar, and he just hoped that he’d not make too poor a showing. Loose and pliant from back-to-back drinks, Dean slid on the glove when it was handed to him and pushed his fingers down inside. Hopping up onto the back of the fabricated animal, he took the strap in hand and gripped tightly, waiting for the ride to start.

I must look good, he thought, because he was already getting some pretty heavy catcalls and he’d not even started moving yet. Looking over at the operator, Dean gave a nod that he was ready. It started achingly slow, but the low speed gave him a feel for the movements. When the ride sped up, Dean found that he could no longer hear the call of the crowd or even see their faces. Everything was moving past him in a blur, and the breeze that resulted from his spinning felt cool as it licked across his sweaty skin. It was easier, he found, to close his eyes and simply _feel_ what the animal was doing. So, that was what he did.

Allowing his body to roll with the machine, Dean used his raised arm to compensate for his body and remained pliant as he rode. He was stunned by how long he seemed to be staying on, and how much he was enjoying this. He let his head tip back as he rocked and it wasn’t until he was airborne that he realized he’d finally been thrown. His eyes opened when he felt his body bounce on the air cushion. As he flopped against the side, legs tangled under him, Dean was grinning widely. “That was awesome!” he blabbered over and over as he was assisted to his feet. Dean fumbled his way to the exit where his friend was waiting for him. As they came face to face, Dean was sure that he’d never seen Castiel look quite so blissfully happy. Joyful.

Maybe it was the drinks, or the ride, or some combination of the two. But regardless, his angel had never looked more kissable. And for once, he appeared approachable too… as though he might like to be kissed… as though life was an adventure that he wanted to taste more of… he looked, well, he looked so _alive_.

Working hard to tamp down the urges that Castiel’s wide smile seemed to encourage, Dean grabbed his friend by the shoulder and said, “C’mon, I need another drink.” Back at the bar, he and Cas watched other riders as they sipped drinks. He was buzzing hard, flying high from riding the bull but also from the way Cas was looking at him and talking to him. The occasional lady hitting on one or the other of them didn’t even register. It was as if they were the only two in the world and Dean couldn’t remember having had this much fun in a long damn time. That’s why it was like a bucket of cold water to have his friend say, “We should be leaving soon. You need to get some rest.”

Dean nodded agreement, even though he really didn’t want to leave. He was reluctant to try and cajole his angel into staying longer if he didn’t feel like it. Instead, he tipped back the last of his drink and headed for the door.

Stepping outside into the dark, Dean realized how sweaty he’d gotten as the night’s cool breeze whispered across his skin. Cas looked so very human in the blueish tint of the moonlight, his sleeves rolled up and his collar wide open while his tie dangled loosely. With his jackets slung over his forearm, Cas looked like a cool dude. Dean fell into step beside him and said, “Nice night for a walk, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Can’t drive my baby all sloppy like this,” he admitted.

“Yes, Dean, I understand.”

“I had a damn good time tonight Cas,” said Dean fondly, draping an arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“As did I,” said Cas. Then Dean felt his angel’s arm come up to wrap around his waist. His heart began to hammer at the touch and he hated how much he wanted to rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder as they walked along. Reveling in their closeness and good feelings, Dean sighed deeply and tried to commit this night to memory.

“Dean,” ventured Cas, “I was surprised to enjoy the bull-riding.”

“Well, you rocked it,” he replied honestly.

“Your ride was far better.”

Dean burst out laughing. “The fuck it was! I got thrown. You practically had to jump off just to keep from being mistaken for Superman.”

“I understand that on its technical merit my ride was likely superior. However, my time on Earth has taught me that the technical aspects of anything are far less appreciated than one’s artistic expression. The way your body moves, Dean, it’s pleasurable to watch…”

Dean’s thudding heart stopped beating for a moment and his breath hitched in his throat. Did Cas just say he was sexy? Was that angel-speak for attractive?

“The response from the crowd,” continued Castiel, “was overwhelmingly more exuberant for your ride than mine.”

“Cas,” Dean began, realising that he’d been searching for a compliment where there was none, “ya rode the bull. Man, ya rode it like a boss.”

“Thank you Dean. I think,” chuckled Cas.

Sadly, their walk was at its end, the ugly facade of their motel encroaching on the sidewalk to their left. Dean took a deep breath as he felt Cas’s arm slip away from him. Begrudgingly he pulled his own arm away too, busying his hands with finding the keycard in his wallet.

Once the door was opened, Dean pushed through it and Cas followed. Moving through the room towards the bathroom, Dean heard the click of the door when his friend closed it behind them. Lurching clumsily toward the toilet as he fumbled with his zipper, Dean didn’t realize that he’d forgotten to shut the bathroom door until he was actually pissing. Grimacing at the sound of it which filled the quiet room, Dean was far too loose to be able to stop the flow. When he’d finished, he flushed and stepped back out. “Sorry,” he muttered, kicking his boots off. “That was fuckin’ rude.”

“Isn’t it customary to wash one’s hands when you’ve urinated?” The hint of a smile hovering at the corners of Castiel’s lips was a dead giveaway that his angel was attempting humor.

“Well,” retorted Dean, “I prefer to just avoid pissing on my hands.”

Cas let out a soft chuckle. He was close. Very close. It was this precise moment when Dean realized that he’d inadvertently flopped down on Cas’s bed instead of his own which now stood empty. Not willing to move away yet, Dean kept up their little banter by reaching over and dropping his palm on Cas’s thigh. “Is this bothering you Cas… my unwashed hand on your angel-fresh pants?”

Cas fell silent, and Dean wondered if he’d gone too far. Craning his neck to get a look at his friends face, Dean saw that they were fine. Cas was wearing a warm smile and Dean didn’t mean to get lost in it. But, maybe he did for a moment. Realizing that he was just laying there mooning over the guy, Dean heaved himself up and took the two longest steps in the world - the ones that took him from Cas’s bed to his own.

That’s where he woke in the morning too… still wearing his same clothes. He’d must’ve slept in them all night. There was no pillow under his head, but he was under a blanket. Cas must’ve covered him up at some point. Sitting up, Dean looked around for Cas but didn’t see him. The bathroom door was closed so it seemed safe to assume Cas was in there. Checking his phone for the time, Dean realized it was dead. Stretching as he stood, Dean pulled his duffel bag over and retrieved his charger from it. Just as he was plugging it in, he heard the bathroom door open. Looking over he saw Cas coming out. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Heya Cas.”

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“In a sec,” he nodded, digging through his bag.

“Have you heard from Sam yet this morning?”

“Phone’s dead. I’ll check it after my shower.”

Cas settled onto his bed, watching as Dean puttered around the room. He ducked into the bathroom for a quick shower and then threw on his clothes before exiting. Returning to the main room, Dean turned on his phone and saw that he had a missed call from his brother. When he returned the call, he was glad to hear that Sam had a location for them.

“Helena,” Sam said firmly. “I’ve got credit card purchases by half a dozen missing persons at the same Home Depot there.”

“Home Depot?” echoed Dean.

“I didn’t say it made sense Dean, I just said that their money is being used there. I’m cross referencing the list of names and cards with hotels but it’s going to be a while. I’ve got other stuff  going on here too.”

“I know,” conceded Dean. “How’s it going with Eileen?”

“It’s been… well, it’s been a lot to juggle. She and mom are deep in it and I’m trying to go back and forth between what they’re working on and what I’m working on for you guys. Mom’s been trying to help some too, but Eileen needs her more than I do. I guess mom kind of helps her connect the dots.”

“What do ya mean by connect the dots? Isn’t she basically just starting at one end of the library and working towards the other? Copying down any spells she thinks they can use and trying to con you into loaning her all our magic trinkets?”

“Not really. You’ll see when you get back here; there’s definitely a method to the madness. It’s too much to explain right now, though. Just head for Helena and when you get there, check out the Home Depot… see what you can get off the cameras. I’ll call you if I find anything else that might be helpful.”

“Thanks Sammy.”

When they’d hung up, Dean headed for the door. He stepped outside and knocked on Donna’s door. “Breakfast,” he barked. To his surprise, she opened the door for him. Both she and Claire were dressed and ready.

“Where are we eating?” asked Donna.

“Don’t care,” said Dean, “but we’re hoppin’ in with you guys.”

“Why?”

“Cause my baby’s parked at the bar a few blocks down and it’s too damn early for a nature walk.”

With Donna obviously working to keep silent and Claire ribbing them harshly about their night out , the four of them picked up the Impala and went out for a quick breakfast at a diner down the street. That’s where they were sitting when Dean told them the destination.

A few hours later, they were rolling into Helena. As they did, Dean was getting a call from Sam. He had a wealth of new information and said he was sending it all in a series of emails. Once the call was ended, Dean set his sights on finding lodgings. Normally, they’d start with interviews first. But, since he had a bunch of new information to sift through, it seemed prudent to do that prior to heading over to Home Depot.

Dean settled on the Shilo Inn & Suites. This town was lacking for cheap and run-down motels, so it was either the Shilo or the Motel 6. It was a fair bet that the rooms at Motel 6 were cheaper. But, as a national chain, it was more likely to spot his fraudulent card than a mom-n-pop outfit like the Shilo.

Pulling in, he noticed the natural stone exterior of the office and the cleanliness of the grounds and hoped the place wouldn’t be too terribly expensive. Walking into the office, he was greeted warmly by the counter help. He requested two adjacent doubles.

“I’m sorry sir,” replied the young lady behind the counter, “I’m unable to book to adjacent rooms. I have a double king available on the first floor and standard double on the second. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he nodded. Then, seeing an older woman emerge from a set of double doors and into the lobby with a towel wrapped around her head, he looked back at the receptionist and said, “Hey, that’s not an indoor pool, is it?”

“It is,” she confirmed, “There is also a hot tub. The pool It closes at 11pm each night and re-opens at 6am each morning. Towels are provided on the pool deck.”

“Sweet.”

“How many nights will you be staying with us?” she asked.

“Let’s do two nights for now,” he told her.

“That’ll be $314.67,” she said, passing him the charge slip. It was strange to sign for such a large transaction. But, this was a more expensive place than usual and he was paying for two rooms instead of one.

Realizing this was a damn decent hotel, Dean asked another question. “Is there a restaurant?”

“Not on site, sir,” she replied, “but there are several nearby. Here’s a list.”

Dean took the sheet of paper she handed him and skimmed it before tucking it away in his pocket.

“Here are your room keys,” said the lady, pushing an envelope across the counter to him. “These keys will also open the door to the pool. Enjoy your stay.”

Dean thanked her and headed back outside. Donna had her window down, so he leaned in and handed her the keys to the room she’d be sharing with Claire on the second floor. “I couldn’t get us anywhere near each other, but at least there’s a pool.” Donna looked at the keycards he’d handed her and then past him, her eyes scanning the second floor as if wondering where she’d find her room.

“Me ‘n Cas are over there,” he told her, giving her their room number and pointing in the general direction. “Sammy just sent me a bunch more info, so I’m gonna start diggin’ through that. Why don’t you and Claire just get settled in and then come on over?”

“Alrighty-roo,” she beamed, putting her sedan in reverse. Dean watched her back out and drive off towards her part of the hotel. Then he climbed back in with Cas and drove a few dozen yards to park right in front of their door.

“Home sweet home,” he said to Cas, climbing out of the car and heading towards the trunk. The angel joined him at the rear of the Impala and Dean handed him one of the key cards.

“You like this place,” said Cas; it wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s nice.” On some level, Dean found himself excited. But it wasn’t just the decent digs that had him feeling buoyant. He was enjoying his time with Cas. And now, dead set on showing Cas the many things to love about life on Earth, Dean was a bit excited about doing those things for himself too. He’d spent far too long avoiding pleasurable things in favor of saving the world. Hell, last night had been the first time in ages that he’d gone to a restaurant based on choice rather than convenience. In hindsight Dean also realized that it had been too long since he let himself have some actual fun.  

But now, to work this case, they’d come to a veritable vacation zone. Hell, they were only a few hours drive from Rufus’s cabin. If he wanted to show Cas a good time, this was a very good place to do it. As they were carrying in their things, Dean was already thinking about the list in his pocket and wondering if maybe he should suggest a good steakhouse for dinner. Cas loved burgers so perhaps a savory steak would be memorable for him.

Stepping through the door, Dean let out a low whistle. This was definitely the nicest room he’d stayed in for quite some time. The musty smell that normally greeted him upon entering a motel room was suspiciously absent and so were the dingy walls and threadbare carpet he was accustomed to.

“These beds are quite large,” said Cas as he looked around.

“King size,” replied Dean, sitting down at the table with his laptop. “And look, the table doesn’t wobble.”

Sinking into his email, Dean found several from his brother. There was a lot of information to go through and as he considered how to compartmentalize it all, a picture began to take shape in his mind of how to divide up all the legwork between the four of them. He grabbed a sheet of hotel stationery and drew lines to divide it into fourths. Then he began dropping information into each quadrant as appropriate. When there was a knock at the door, Dean figured it was Donna and Claire. He hollered for them to enter without even looking up. Continuing to focus on his work, Dean was hardly even aware of the conversation as Cas greeted the ladies and began discussing the hotel, the town, and the case.

When he finally picked his head up, the divided paper was crammed full. Tearing the sheet into quarters along the lines he’d drawn, Dean passed the information around the room.

“From what I can tell,” he said to the group, “it looks like a shitload of missing people have just blown into this town from all over the northwest. Sam’s tracked the money to zero in on license plate numbers, bank account numbers, credit card numbers, and just about anything else that can be tracked. There’s lots of holes in the research,” he admitted, “but honestly, it looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us if we’re gonna follow up on all these leads. So, I’ve divided them up the best I can. One of these sheets is a list of all the hotels with a lead, one is the restaurants, and so on. So, what I propose is that we each take a portion of the list and start canvassing them.”

Donna and Claire were comparing lists and speaking quietly to one another as they began to go over the logistics of doing what Dean had proposed. When Claire looked up she said, “You have the handwriting of a serial killer.”

Dean grinned and replied, “You mean _lady_ killer.” It was lame and it earned him an eye roll.

“Okay,” he said, getting back to the issue at hand, “Obviously the name of the game is figuring out what the hell all these people are doing in town. But, we’re also hoping to get a location on Jack. So, keep your eyes peeled everywhere you go and make sure to look for him in any surveillance footage you review.”

“I’ve only seen him once,” said Donna, “and it wasn’t a good image.”

“Sam managed to clean up a decent picture of him. I’ve forwarded it to you, Donna, and you can send it to Claire. That way you guys will have it on your phones.”

“This is so strange,” said Claire. “I mean, having so many vics. How am I going to keep all this straight?”

“We’re all gonna help each other,” he told her. “We’ll double up so there’s always two sets of eyes and ears on everything. And, I don’t know about you guys,” added Dean, “but I plan to be writing this stuff down as I go.”

Everyone seemed a bit uncertain as they headed out to start casing the town. But, by dusk, it was coming together. Donna and Claire were hitting motels one by one, keeping to a story they’d crafted about investigating a network of credit card thieves. It seemed to be working like a charm and they’d gathered a wealth of information.

Dean and Cas were pretty much camped out in the security room at the Home Depot under a similar pretense. The ruse was working well, allowing them access to the surveillance cameras, the credit card transaction records, and even employees that they wanted to question.

When they finally called it a day, Dean suggested they go “someplace nice” for dinner to celebrate the tremendous progress they’d made. Claire quickly agreed and suggested a trendy steakhouse. Upon arrival they were seated in a round booth. Dean had to turn his head and laugh discreetly when Claire ordered a frozen margarita with a shot of Jose Cuervo on the side. The waiter asked for an ID and in response she flashed her FBI badge at him. She sold it with such a put-upon expression that it was impossible to keep a straight face.

Donna looked over at Dean and gave him a ‘whatcha gonna do’ shrug.

“Ya know what,” he said to Claire, “I’m gonna let ya have that one cause you earned it. But that’s it. No more.”

She seemed quite proud of herself as she did her shot. She then proceeded to sip her blender drink smugly as everyone else combed through the menu to decide on their order.

Dean was preoccupied for most of dinner. Castiel, bathed in the soft orange glow of a tiny pendant light, was so inviting that Dean couldn’t help letting his mind wander. The man’s entire demeanor was different here. The stiff rigidity that often defined Castiel had seemed to seep out into his seat as the comfortable atmosphere rubbed off on him.

They enjoyed platters of delicious meat and steamed veggies that put their usual meals to shame and when the waiter offered dessert, they ordered one to share even though they were stuffed.

The four of them talked through a wide variety of topics before settling into a discussion of the case, comparing notes and planning how tomorrow would go. Then, sadly, they headed back to the hotel where there were still hours worth of work to be done tonight.

Sacrificing a good night’s sleep for being well prepared in the morning, Dean stayed up until the wee hours. Eventually Cas urged him to get some sleep and insisted that he’d keep going and have everything ready in the morning. At first, Dean felt guilty for crawling into bed while Cas continued going over screen after screen of transactions, but soon he sank down into a deep sleep.

When he woke, it was to the sound of his phone again. Still groggy, Dean answered and forced himself to wake up so that he could discuss their progress with Sam. With his brother on speaker phone, Dean and Cas both went over the basics of what they’d found yesterday and what they planned to do today.

As they wrapped up, Sam told Dean that he’d caught a glimpse of Jack.

“Where?”

“At a Gas-n-Sip in southern Minnesota.”

“For some reason, I thought we’d see him here.”

“Seems like he’s heading east,” countered Sam. “He’s literally moving across the country in a straight line.”

“Where will he end up if he keeps going?”

“It’s hard to tell,” replied Sam, “maybe New York or Boston if he crosses the lakes. If he goes around them, then who knows. I think it’s too soon to tell.”

“Well, I tell you what Sammy, we’ll keep tryin’ to figure out what’s going on here and you just see if you can work up a guess as to where he’s headed okay?”

“Sure thing Dean.”

Dean was about to hang up when his brother added, “Oh, and mom says to pass along her love.”

For some reason, statements like that were irritating. Only slightly more irritating was getting no word from her at all. Not wanting to go back to that, Dean made sure to respond in a positive way. He tried to keep his words from sounding harsh as he said, “Pass some back to her then. See ya, Sammy.”


	7. A Peek At Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Destiella who still took time for fic this weekend, even though she was at a convention! What a woman!

 

After hanging up with Sam, Dean continued to think about his mother for a while. His feelings about her were complicated - much like those he harbored for his angel, his brother, his father and the many friends he’d lost in his life. Rather than dwell on the tangled mess of those emotions, Dean generally preferred to swallow them down, chase them with whiskey, and keep himself comfortably numb while locking them away. Or, like now, when sinking into a bottle of therapy wasn’t really an option, he’d distract himself with work. Lose himself in the hunt.

When it was time to head out for the day, Claire and Donna headed off to continue working their way through the lists of area hotels and restaurants. Dean went back to the Home Depot with Cas. The morning was spent sifting through endless hours of security camera footage. Now, they had moved on to paperwork.  

By lunch time, Dean was growing cranky. Digging through hundreds of credit card transactions wasn’t his idea of a good time. 

“Dean,” said Cas from beside him, “are you hungry?”

“Always.”

“Perhaps we should take a break and have some lunch.”

Slightly irritated at his angel for being so reasonable, Dean snapped at him. “I’m not leavin’ yet. I haven’t found anything.” 

“On the contrary,” said Castiel, gesturing towards the stacks of paperwork in front of them. “We have found a great deal of information.”

“Cas, I don’t even know what we’re lookin’ for anymore. I mean, what is up with these people? Donna’s got dozens of missing folks accounted for. We’ve even seen them on footage here… buyin’ shit. I mean, what the fuck, Cas? What are they all doing?”

“Well, most of them seem to be shopping.”

“But what for?” he pressed. “The first to go missing have been gone for weeks now. They all seem to be congregating here… and Jack is, what, headed in the opposite damn direction? I mean, really Cas, does any of this make a lick of sense to you?”

“Not yet, Dean. At this point, I’ve got more questions than answers. But Jack is unlike any being you’ve ever hunted before. You can’t reasonably expect this case to follow a normal progression.”

Still fuming, Dean tipped back in his chair. He thought about it for a minute and realized that Cas was right. This was no routine monster hunt. There were so many victims - it was impossible to investigate each fully. Not to mention that some of the missing had actually started reconnecting with their families and been removed from the missing persons list. It was so frustrating to watch the monetary trails of people whom he knew nothing about and to try and guess their motives. Additionally, Jack was an entirely new kind of adversary. They had no idea how to handle him because they had no idea what his powers were, what he could do, or even what his endgame was. 

Or, did they…

Dropping the front legs of his chair back to the ground with a thud, Dean looked over at Cas and said, “You’re right. We have to think outside the box for this one.”

Nodding, Castiel waited silently as Dean gathered his thoughts. 

“Cas, what do we know about Jack, huh?”

Holding up his hand, Dean began ticking off his fingers as he listed things. “We know he can open portals between worlds -

“And close them,” injected Cas, “in theory.”

“He can send his mojo to other people… by touch,” added Dean.

“Yes,” agreed Cas, “and he can restore the nearly dead, or perhaps even raise the recently deceased.”

“Wait. What?”

“Kelly, she killed herself while she was with child. He brought her back.”

“Hell, he did that as a damn fetus,” sighed Dean, “Imagine what he can do now.”

“You fear him.”

“I’d be a fool not to,” admitted Dean. “But all this time, I’ve been tryin’ to figure out what the hell he’s doin’ and it just occured to me that we already know.”

“We do?”

“We do Cas. He fuckin’ told us. Well, actually, he told  _ you _ .”

“I’ve never actually spoken with him Dean. I merely felt his presence through Kelly, she was his conduit.”

“Yeah, Cas, and what the fuck did you tell us you felt from him?”

“That he wanted to build a paradise here on Earth.”

“Yeah. Build. He wanted to build. And now, we’re sittin’ here watchin’ video in a goddam Home Depot while every person he’s met from Oregon to Minnesota migrates here and buys supplies.”

Cas blinked at him, tilting his head to the side as he considered Dean’s words. 

“Fuck,” Dean barked. “Do you really not see where I’m goin’ with this Cas?”

“Yes,” the angel replied, “I think I do. You’re thinking literally. He’s building something.”

“Yeah, man, he’s fuckin’ building,” agreed Dean roughly, jumping to his feet to pace back and forth. “We gotta start watchin’ the live feeds of the security cameras. We gotta catch some of these folks on the way in -

“Yes,” agreed Cas, “then when they leave, we can follow them… presumably to the site of the build.”

Dean moved to the door and stepped out into the hall. They had been given a small office to work from, complete with a few computer monitors for the purpose of reviewing old surveillance footage. Next door, though, that was the real hub of security for this particular store. Bursting through the door, Dean addressed the head of security and said, “We’ve got a solid lead and we need access to this room.”

It only took a few minutes for the supervisor and the one officer present to move the chairs around and accommodate what they thought were federal agents. Soon both Dean and Cas were perched in front of a bank of monitors with photos of the missing in their laps. They flipped through continually, trying to commit each face to memory. They’d been staring at these pictures for about a week anyway so most were at least vaguely familiar. Pulling out his phone, Dean called Donna. “How’s it goin’?” he asked her.

“Alright,” she said stiffly, her tone implied she was currently in close proximity to someone who needed to believe she was FBI. Luckily for Dean, shortly after being given a seat in this room, they’d been left alone while the employees went to lunch. He was able to speak freely.

“Listen, I think we’ve been going about this the wrong way. We’ve been avoiding contact with the missing and interviewing everyone they come into contact with. I wanna change tactics.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Next time you see a mark, call me for back-up. Then, drop whatever you’re doin’ and follow them.”

Beside him, Cas was still watching the monitors like a hawk.

Hanging up from his call with Donna, Dean didn’t put away his phone. He called Sam.

“Heya Sammy,” he greeted, “ya doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s under control,” responded his brother. “What’s up?”

“I need ya to do some research for me.”

“What do you need?”

“I need recent property sales and building permits for Helena and the surrounding areas.”

“Residential or commercial property?”

“Anything and everything since the day Jack was born.”

“You got it,” answered Sam. Then he added, “Hey Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Where you goin’ with this?”

“He’s building his paradise, Sammy. I need to know  _ where _ .”

Dean and Cas never got lunch that day. They watched the grainy screens in the security office for several hours, certain that they’d soon see a familiar face walk through the door. Dean’s shoulders and neck were aching as he sat like Johnny Bench and stared intently, searching face after face in the hopes of some hint of recognition. 

When his phone rang, it startled him. Chuckling and rolling his eyes at himself, Dean answered. It was Donna.

“Dean,” she said, “we’ve got a live one. Here’s Claire.”

“We’re on Veterans Memorial,” said Claire as soon as she had possession of the phone. “We’re heading north tailing a pickup truck. Need the plate number?.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he said, picking up a pen to write it down. Tucking the paper in his pocket and rising from his seat, Dean asked, “Who ya got?” Cas was on his feet without missing a beat and followed Dean as he headed down the hall and back out into the store.

“We’ve got Darin Hanson,” said Claire. “He’s forty-two, divorced, and recently laid off from his job at a John Deere plant in Iowa. He was reported missing by his ex-wife. She called authorities when he didn’t show to pick up his daughter for visitation. They officially declared him missing 24 hours later when he’d not shown at work or had contact with any friends or family.”

“Okay,” he said as he charged out into the parking lot, “where are you?”

“We’re still tailing him,” she replied, “heading north-west on Veterans Memorial.”

“We’re comin’ Claire, just stay on the line with me,” Dean ordered as he climbed behind the wheel. Cas slid in beside him and they peeled out, charging through the lot and out into the street. “What exits are you passing?” asked Dean, putting his phone on speaker. “I need to know whether to go North or South when I get to the freeway.” Beside him, Cas was already digging through the glove box for a map. 

“Townsend,” answered Claire, “we just exit passed exit 192;  Townsend Capital Exit.”

“Okay,” said Dean, repeating the information for Cas, “so you’re northbound on Veterans Memorial and you’ve just passed exit 192, is that right?”

“Yeah. And we’re changing lanes,” added Claire, “looks like we might be getting off.”

“That’s only two exits south of us,” advised Cas. 

Dean pulled over near the overpass and and put his hazards on. No point in getting on the freeway until he knew for sure if he should be heading north or south. “Well?” he prompted Claire.

“Ummm… ummm…

“Is he getting off or staying on?” Dean demanded.

“Off,” answered Claire, “he’s exiting at Cedar Street.”

“Comin’ to ya,” answered Dean, throwing the car in gear. “Stay on the line,” he told her. Then, holding the phone against the wheel as he drove, Dean said to Cas, “They’re on Cedar Street, anything jump out at you on the map?”

“The airport,” answered Cas, “and a UPS shipping center. Nothing else appears noteworthy.”

Putting the phone back up to his ear, Dean heard the tail end of something Claire had said. He asked her to repeat herself by simply saying, “What?” 

“I said we’re at a K-mart. He’s pulling in. Do we follow?”

“No,” barked Dean, “it’ll be to obvious. Just pull up somewhere nearby where you can watch him from a distance. I goddam know that Donna’s got binoculars somewhere in that grocery getter she’s drivin’.”

As they approached the area, Dean said, “I see the sign. I’ll pull into the lot. You keep your eye on him and let me know when I’m close. What color truck is he drivin’?”

“Blue,” answered Claire.

Dean was coming up on the store from the east and immediately knew something was wrong. He tossed the phone to Cas saying, “I can’t turn in either, find out where Donna parked.”

Dean turned his attention to the Kmart and drove by slow, letting his eyes skim over the empty lot. This K-mart was no longer open for business. The building was empty and the windows had been boarded up. There was a blue truck in the lot, and a few dozen other vehicles. That’s all he was able to see as he drove past. He didn’t want to risk his presence being noticed so rather than risk their anonymity for the sake of a closer look, Dean drove past the store and circled back a block later. Following Cas’s instructions to an adjacent lot, he pulled in and parked next to Donna’s sedan. They were now across the street from the K-mart lot, parked at a small strip mall. Both the ladies were out of the car and talking so when Dean pulled up, he and Cas got out to join them.

“What have ya seen so far?” he asked as he approached.

“Not much,” answered Donna. “I wasn’t sure about using the binoculars in public like this, in the middle of the day. All we can really say for sure is that when he arrived, he parked and went inside. Nothing’s happened since.”

Between their small parking lot and the larger neighboring lot that belonged to Kmart was a wide street with regular traffic. Along the street ran a line of small trees which probably afforded them enough shield to use the binoculars, but Donna was right - it didn’t feel right to use them in broad daylight at such a busy location. It would only draw attention. 

The little shopping center where they’d parked boasted an H&R Block, a copy center, and one vacant storefront with a For Lease sign in the window. So, under the guise of checking out the available space, the four of them lingered for quite a while and watched the Kmart from afar. 

The man whom they’d followed to this empty store had gone inside. The front of the store had once been almost entirely made of glass. Now it was covered in plywood. There was no way to see inside at all. Considering that this business was boarded up, there were far too many cars in the parking lot. It was reasonable to assume there were quite a few people inside. On the far side of the parking lot were dozens of pallets. They were stacked with bricks and wood and other building supplies. It would seem they’d found the location they were looking for. 

Dean, Cas, Claire, and Donna stayed long enough to see vehicles coming and going regularly, and to watch one semi pull up to the loading docks in the back. Dean and Donna took a walk around the block, hoping to look like an ordinary couple out for an afternoon stroll. They were angling for a peek at what was being unloaded, but they didn’t see much of anything. By the time they returned to Claire and Cas, it was dusk. Claire was perched on the trunk of the Impala and Cas was leaning next to her, fascinated as she showed him something on her phone. It warmed Dean’s heart to see their strange relationship blossoming like it had on this trip. Despite his own reasons for wanting them to be close, Dean knew that they needed one another; even if both were loathe to admit it. 

As he and Donna stepped up, a street light came on above them. That’s when Dean realized how late it had gotten, the sky slowly turning from dusk to twilight. “Let’s go eat,” he said.

Since Cas seemed to be enjoying their foray into nicer eating establishments, Dean consulted Claire for suggestions and she decided on Bert & Ernie’s. Cas ate, so that was something, but Dean found it hard to be gracious about the meal since the mediocre food was so very overpriced. The place was fun though, whimsical and nostalgic decorations mounted on the walls, and a noteworthy selection of beers. Donna had gotten a laugh out of it when Dean not only blocked Claire’s attempt to order alcohol, but successfully managed to run off the waiter who seemed to be flirting with her. 

Claire appeared to take it in good humor, tugging the end off of her straw wrapper and then raising the straw to her lips so she could blow into it and launch the remainder of the wrapper at Dean’s face. A beat later she was doing the same to Cas. He seemed to enjoy the interaction once he realized that she was playing with him. In fact, he’d given her his full attention as she’d taught him how to slide his fingers up a wet straw and make it whistle. 

Donna had joined in too, laughing as their group goofed around like kindergartners. It wasn’t until he reached for his beer that Dean had realized he’d been played. Not only was his glass missing, but across the table from him, Claire was holding it smugly. She had grinned widely as she’d chucked down as much as she could before Donna relieved her of it.

“Thanks for the help, Cas,” growled Dean. But he’d known Cas wouldn’t do anything to help him. The angel was wrapped firmly around Claire’s talented fingers. He was putty in her hands.

After dinner, when they’d said goodbye to the ladies, the hunter and his angel headed to their room. Sam hadn’t called and it was still relatively early. So, rather that chew on the case, Dean decided that it was as good a time as any to show the angel another reason to love Earth. 

“Hey Cas, I’m feelin’ like hittin’ the hot tub. You game?”

“Hot tub? Are you referring to the facilities in our bathroom?”

“No, man, there’s a pool here - it’s indoors and there’s a hot tub. You know,” he prompted, “a whirlpool.”

“I think I understand what you mean,” said Cas, “but I’m not sure I understand the point of the exercise.”

“The point is relaxation. We put on some shorts and go sit in the hot water. It relaxes muscles and makes ya feel good. Nothin’ better than sippin’ a cold beer in a hot tub. Wanna try it?”

“I will try it Dean, but I’m not sure I have any suitable attire.”

“Well, what kinda drawers do ya wear?”

“Drawers?”

“Underwear, Cas, underwear. Are you a boxers man or a briefs man?”

“Oh,” said Cas. 

Dean had to pretend to be looking through his bag so that his angel wouldn’t read his face and see how invested he was in the angel’s answer to that question. But, hot tub or not, Dean really wanted to know what was under those slacks. 

“I have some of each,” said Cas, moving to open his duffel. “I even have some of these,” he added, holding up a pair of black boxer briefs. Dean bit his lip and tried not to picture his angel wearing them. “Well, get some boxers out. They’re close enough to swim trunks if there’s no one around.”

Crossing the lot, Dean inhaled the thin air and listened to the cars passing by. Cas was oddly silent. 

“You okay man?”

“Yes Dean. I’m just pondering water. Humans have always gravitated toward it. They flock to the shores of oceans and lakes, they create huge man made lakes and build ever more creative ways to slide into them, in fact, many humans even build tiny lakes behind their homes so they can throw themselves into the water whenever they want. What is so fascinating about water Dean?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “I guess it’s just something different. And those tiny lakes are called pools, just so ya know.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” answered Cas with a condescending tone.

Entering the office, Dean gave a half-wave of acknowledgement to the young man behind the counter and headed for the double doors to the pool. He was glad to find it empty. It was at least ten degrees warmer in here than it had been in the lobby and Cas commented on it as Dean led them across the pool deck. The water in the pool was inviting, but Dean had come for heat. And bubbles. And close proximity to Castiel, which he hated to admit - even to himself.

The control box on the wall was nothing but a timer. Turning the dial started up the hot tub and also started the timer ticking down. Dean had it on the highest setting which was 20 minutes. 

Looking over at Cas, he huffed a short laugh and said, “What’s with the poop face?”

Staring disdainfully at the hot tub, Cas said, “Dean, that is a basin of amalgamation for bacteria and other microbes. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to immerse yourself in the pool over there? It is much cleaner.”

“But,” said Dean with a sly grin on his face, “This one is warm and bubbly.”

“Precisely. The combination of temperature and lowered chemical content is nothing but a breeding ground for all kinds of biological -

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Dean, “don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.” He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. Then, he looked expectantly to Castiel, wondering if his angel would follow suit. 

When Cas’s shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, Dean knew his angel was going to get in. As he undid his watch, he saw Cas loosening his tie in his peripheral vision. It was impossible to hold back his smile as he took down his jeans and plucked off his socks. Then, stepping forward, he eased himself down into churning water. “Ahh,” he moaned as he sank down onto the bench seat and felt his feet start to float up. 

On the opposite side, Cas was approaching. Dean smiled at him before he could help himself. He’d never actually seen so much of Castiel’s skin at once before. He looked very human this way. His legs were hairy and his chest was smooth and he had an angel-kiss freckle hovering near his left nipple. Dean felt his pulse pick up as their eyes met, and then, Cas was climbing in. Taking a minute to get situated, Cas then looked over at Dean.

“Wish I had a cold beer,” was all he could think to say to fill the silence. Then, he felt Castiel’s legs bump his from underneath. They’d floated up and Cas seemed perplexed. “Me feet won’t stay down,” he muttered, clearly trying to keep their legs from bumping together. “I fail to see how this is relaxing.”

“Stop fighting it,” Dean answered, trying not to smirk. It was hard. Cas was adorable when he was flustered like this and for once, Sam wasn’t around. That meant Dean didn’t have to keep up the pretenses regarding Cas like he usually did. He was free to enjoy this. “Relax,” he said to Cas, “just give up and let your body float where it wants to.”

His angel must’ve taken the advice because a moment later, the underside of his legs was jostled again. Skin on skin. Dean closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He had no idea how long Cas was going to allow this, but he didn’t want to waste a second of it. Enjoying the feel of every nudge from Cas, Dean was utterly content. He let the hot water relax his tense muscles and tried not to let his mind wander back to the case. It was unforgivable to be less than 100% attentive to what was happening in this moment. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” he replied without lifting his head or opening his eyes.

“I think I can understand why you like this.”

_ If you only knew _ he thought. “Do you like it?”

“Well, it’s a pleasant enough sensation I suppose.”

“You still wanna go in the pool, don’tcha?”

“I do. It appeals to me more than this cesspool.”

“Give me a few more minutes,” he bargained, still relaxing with his eyes shut. “Then I’ll go with you to the pool.”

“Of course,” replied Cas. “I do enjoy the way you look in the hot tub, Dean.”

Once more, Dean paused to consider the idea that Cas was flirting with him, or perhaps simply complementing his physical appearance. Either way, he was immediately interested. Picking his head up, Dean opened his eyes and said, “You think I look good wet?”

“It makes me happy to see you relaxed.”

Dropping his head back down, Dean once more had to recover from his momentary hopes that Cas somehow shared an attraction. He tried not to let reality ruin this time for him, but it was no use. Working to hide his disappointment, Dean untangled his legs from Cas and stood. 

“Let’s go jump in the pool,” he sighed. Then, at that moment, Dean saw something that resurrected all his hopes regarding his angel… he saw Castiel’s gaze drop down and lock on Dean’s groin. Immediately Dean’s heart took off at a gallop, thundering inside his rib cage. 

He was wearing only boxers and he knew it was possible that not only his shape but perhaps even some color was showing through the thin, cotton material. Cas was staring unrepentantly  now and Dean felt the moment stretch out between them. Where his angel human, Dean would have stepped forward confidently and slid easily into the other person’s space. He would have worn a knowing smirk after having been checked out, and he would have expected nothing less than to have the person tilt their head and lean into a kiss.  He would have made his move without any fear of possible rebuff. 

This, however, was no man. This was Castiel. Though his power wasn’t what it once was, and though they had history, Dean felt incapable of making a first move. He just stood there like a buffoon and watched as Cas seemed to appraise him. When he finally spoke, the angel’s words took Dean by surprise. 

“You might want to fix that.” 

Dean looked down at himself, finally seeing what Cas had been seeing. His junk. Hanging out. 

Mortified, Dean turned his back on Cas and worked to tuck his plump pecker back inside the opening of his boxers. “Dude,” he said without turning to face Cas. “M’sorry bout that.”

“It’s alright Dean,” replied Cas. Behind his turned back, Dean heard the sloshing sound of his angel getting to his feet. He felt the displaced water from Cas’s movements swirl around his legs. He didn’t move; not until he heard the slapping sound of Castiel’s bare feet on the cement pool deck. At that point, the timer dinged and the hot tub shut off anyway. As the churning water slowed, the bubbles disappeared and once again, the water’s inky greenish tint became obvious.

Turning towards the pool, he saw Cas descend the steps, his hand holding onto the aluminum handrail as though he were a geriatric in a nursing home. The scene brought a smile to his face despite his embarrassment and he slogged up out of the hot tub to join his friend in the pool. 

It would be cold compared to the whirlpool, he knew that. So, rather than drag out the abrupt temperature change by easing into the pool, he decided to get it over with. Breaking into a jog as he rounded the nearest corner at the shallow end, Dean increased his speed as he neared the darker water and launched himself into the air. As his feet pushed off from the side, Dean tucked his knees to his chest so he could go in cannon-ball style. The water was cold, a shock to his system, but he’d known it was coming. He gritted his teeth against it and felt a shiver as the sensation passed. He kicked his way to the surface, shaking water out of his hair and looking towards the shallow end. Cas was smiling at him. 

“I’d like to try that,” said the angel, awkwardly making his way back to the steps where he’d entered the pool. Dean leaned forward and stretched his body out, breaking into a crawl stroke. He headed towards the shallow end of the pool, turning when he got there so he could watch as Cas jumped in. 

As expected, the angel executed a perfect imitation of what Dean had done. When he surfaced, he sputtered a little and seemed to panic. 

“You okay?” Dean hollered, starting to swim back so he could aid his friend.

“Y-Yes,” replied Cas. Dean paused and saw that his angel appeared to have figured out how to tread water. Dean resumed a lazy stroke, joining Cas in treading water when he got close. 

“How was that first plunge?”

“Overwhelming,” admitted Cas. 

“Wanna do it again?” 

“Yes.”

Cas’s smile was radiant and his eyes sparkled as he eased into a tentative crawl stroke. He was obviously mimicking Dean’s movements, but he quickly perfected them. By the time they’d reached the side of the pool, Cas was a better swimmer than Dean. They climbed out of the water and hustled down to the other end. 

“S’good if you can take a run at it,” advised Dean, breaking into a jog. For some reason, he’d been expecting Cas to wait, watch Dean, and then copy him. But he didn’t. He fell into step beside Dean and they ran side-by-side to the edge. Heaving himself into the air, Dean made a split second decision and pulled only one knee to his chest. Hugging it there, while keeping the other leg straight, he sliced into the cool water making hardly any splash. When he surfaced, Cas was laughing and slicking his hair back from his face. 

“You like the pool,” chuckled Dean.

Nodding adamantly, Cas replied, “Very much so.”

The two of them did a few more jumps, surfacing each time only to swim to the side, hop out of the pool and go again. However, Dean was soon tired. Rather than continue jumping, he opted for hanging onto the side and relaxing while Cas went several more times. 

“Are you tired?” asked Cas, swimming up to him.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m not twelve anymore. This shit takes it outta me.”

Cas pushed himself closer, almost too close, and then reached past Dean to grab ahold of the pool’s edge. Once again following Dean’s lead, Cas let his body relax there. “Thank you for bringing me to swim Dean. I’ve enjoyed it very much.”

“Me too Cas, hell, I shoulda been takin’ ya to do stuff like this all along. I mean honestly, how can you even care about saving the world when all I’ve shown you of it was the shitty stuff?”

“The shitty stuff?”

“Yeah. All I’ve ever done is drag you from one dive bar and greasy spoon to another… rat fuck motels and abandoned warehouses guarded by demons… man, I never took you anywhere you’d wanna see again. Maybe the bunker, I guess. I mean, it’s home if I ever had one. But compared to a home in heaven, it probably sucks to you.”

“Dean,” said Cas softly, “I’ve spent a great deal of time on Earth. Not so much in your modern age, but rather back when the planet was young and undefiled. I have seen far more of its wonders than you have. I have soared over your highest, snow-covered mountain peaks and felt the buffeting winds at the four corners. I have walked the cliff faces of stormy seas and stood upon icebergs to watch the white bears and penguins. The shifting sands of your deserts have whispered under my feet, the great cats of the pride have cowered out of my path, and the swinging primates of deep jungles have entertained me. You, Dean Winchester, are not my tour guide. That is simply not your job.”

Dean hadn’t realized how easily he’d been mesmerized by the vivid imagery of Castiel’s words. But he was. It was tempting to ask for Cas to fly him away, take him to see all those things too. But he didn’t. Beneath the water’s surface, Dean felt Cas’s leg brush against his. He looked over at the angel and wished for the strength to come clean… to admit his lust… and love. 

“I wanna…” tried Dean. Watching him closely, the angel met his gaze and waited. “Cas, I really…” he tried again. But it was a lost cause. The inner strength needed to declare himself was nowhere to be found. So, in lieu of what he wanted to say, Dean finished with, “I wanna take you to the movies.”

Cas cocked his head to the side. That was never going to stop being adorable. 

“I mean,” he clarified, “there are some experiences, human experiences, that I think you should have. And when you actually _ were _ human, I wasn’t -

Dean’s stomach rolled with guilt as he remembered how Castiel had spent his days as a human, and that the fault for that rested squarely on his shoulders. 

“I wasn’t,” he continued, “well Cas, there’s no way to sugar-coat it. I was a dick. I wasn’t there for you and I shoulda been. So now, you’re an angel again and I’ve missed my chance to show ya the human stuff. And I know you don’t need me to show you around. But hey, you seemed to like the swimmin’ and the mini golf, so I betcha you’ll like the movies too.”

“I’m sure I will Dean,” smiled Cas warmly. Then, for a brief second, Cas’s smile seemed to turn wanting. They were close, very close, and when Cas bent his head forward and to the side, Dean was almost certain that he was about to be kissed. 

But, no. Disappointment rolled over him in waves as he realized that Cas was just turning towards the pool’s edge where their hands were clamped right next to one another. In one fluid motion, Cas bobbed low in the water and then shot out like a dolphin, bringing up one knee to the concrete and hoisting himself out of the water. Dean climbed out too and headed over to the cart of towels which was stationed near the entrance. Handing one to Cas, he said, “I guess we better be gettin’ back.”

“Yes, there is much research to be done.”

“Fuck,” moaned Dean, “I’m honestly startin’ to miss the Moose.”

Dean stayed up with Cas for as long as he could, going over all the new information they’d uncovered that morning, and then reviewing everything they’d learned so far within the context of what they’d learned today. 

Eventually, Dean had to tap out. “Sorry man,” he said guiltily as he crawled into his bed. “But, I need my four hours.”

In the morning, Donna knocked on their door, smiling warmly as she entered with Claire. 

They had brought Dunkin’ Donuts. “Mmm,” Dean moaned, smelling the rich coffee. “Look who’s my new best friend.”

“Well,” replied Donna, “we’ve got a big day ahead of us, darn tootin’.”

Settling into a chair to nurse his coffee, Dean asked, “Whatcha got planned?”

“Claire and I made it last night,” said Donna proudly, flashing a badge in his face. 

“What the fuck does that say?” asked Dean as he squinted at it.

“It says,” goaded Claire, “Lemme in there to see what the fucks goin’ on in this old Kmart building.”

Blinking fully awake, Dean grabbed the badge from Donna and looked closely at it. 

“Code enforcement. Good thinkin’,” he praised. “Ya just made the one?”

“We made two,” said Claire haughtily, “see?”

Dean didn’t bother trying to look at hers closely. “It’s too early,” he barked at her. “At least let a man get through his coffee.”

“No prob,” she said with a shrug. Then, crossing the room, she held out a sack for Castiel. 

“What is this?” he asked her.

“Remember I was telling you about that killer donut? Well, I gotcha one.”

Castiel’s smile was nothing short of beatific. “Thank you Claire,” he said reverently. Dean watched in fascination as Cas sat down and eagerly tasted the treat she’d brought him. He chewed slowly, obviously attempting to really savor the flavor. “You’re right,” he said when he’d swallowed, “It’s perfs.”

Dean nearly choked on his coffee as he watched heaven’s most adorable angel try to use teenage slang. 

“Toldja,” she grinned at him. Then, Dean watched her settle at the foot of Castiel’s unused bed and dig out the exact same donut for herself.. 

“What flavor is that?” he asked her.

“It’s apple crumb pie flavor,” she said with a wry grin, “You don’t, like, have a thing for pie do ya Dean?”

“I might,” he said, leaning forwards in his chair, “Is there another one of those?”

“Nope,” she sing-songed, “But there’s a nice kruller for you if you want it.”

Sensing that he was being shaken down, Dean said, “Spill it half-pint. What do you want for it?”

“I want to drive,” she said smartly. 

“Shut up and eat your donut,” he grinned. “And next time you try to bribe me into drivin’ my baby, think bigger.” 

Once they’d finished, the four of them headed back over to the Kmart, caravan style. Dean pulled into the same small parking lot they’d watched from yesterday. Donna and Claire broke away from them at the corner and headed into the parking lot of the vacant discount store. Dean grabbed the binoculars, climbed into the back seat, and then slid all the way over to the passenger side. From there, he watched the neighboring lot. Donna navigated her sedan into a parking spot amongst the other vehicles and Dean watched nervously as the girls got out and walked up to the front door. 

They were granted access and walked right in. But, once the door closed behind them, all Dean could do was imagine the many ways their cover could be blown. He got out of the car and told Cas he was going to walk around the block. As he said it, he pulled his pearl-handled gun from it’s hiding place and tucked it into the back of his jeans. “I’m coming with you,” said Cas, getting out of the car. Dean had known he would. 

The two of them walked a decent speed, trying not to stare too long at the hulking building. As they passed the loading docks, there were two semis unloading. But, again, they were unable to see what was being transferred off the trucks. When they turned the corner, Dean was stunned to see a jarring change to the exterior. On that far side of the building, there were now windows cut into the cinderblock wall that didn’t used to be there. Even stranger was the realization that these windows were stained glass. Dean approached slowly, cautiously, and laid his hand on the glass. It was real. Heavy. Lead lined. Nex to him, Cas reached out and touched the glass too. It was cool here, in the shade of mature trees. But, as they made their way closer to the front of the building, they came out of the shade and were able to see the glass in full sun. It was beautiful from the outside, but Dean knew it would be far more beautiful from the inside. 

Glancing at his watch, Dean said, “We best get movin’.”

He didn’t want to chance throwing the girls off their game by having them see him here unexpectedly if they should happen to exit. It was bad enough that they’d had to go in there in first place. It should have been him and Cas doing that part. Putting Donna and Claire in danger had never been his plan. Dean wasn’t handling this case well, that much was obvious. He was preoccupied with Cas like a smitten schoolgirl, and it was affecting his performance as a hunter. That was something he didn’t take lightly. 

Thankfully, they didn’t cross paths with the ladies. And, they didn’t have to wait much longer for them to return. Checking his watch when he saw them exit, Dean noted they’d been in the building for less than 30 minutes. He scrambled back to the front seat, fired up the Impala, and backed out of his parking space. 

When Donna’s car rolled around the corner, he pulled out and followed it distantly. Donna didn’t pull in anywhere as expected but instead got back on the expressway and headed for their hotel. Dean picked up his phone intending to call her and then saw the look on Cas’s face.

“What?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t call them.”

“Why?”

“Because. They’re already made to feel like they are secondary to male hunters. If you check on them constantly, it exacerbates that feeling. I realize that Claire is young, but she’s trying to prove herself. Perhaps you can limit your calls to times when you actually need something?”

“Fine,” grumbled Dean, “But I woulda called Sammy if he’d been the one going in there.”

“No, Dean, you wouldn’t have.”

Cas was right, but that didn’t mean Dean had to admit it out loud. He drove in silence until they reached the hotel and then parked next to Donna’s sedan. He walked with Cas up the stairs to the second floor balcony where they located the correct room. It was Donna who opened the door for them and, as they passed by her to enter, Dean spotted Claire on a bed. She was sitting Indian style and had a remote control in her hand. Dean made a strong effort to treat them like any other hunters. 

“What didja find out?” he asked. 

“Well, we got a peek,” said Donna, her usual cheeriness gone, “a peek at paradise.”

“What?”

“Paradise church,” clarified young huntress Claire. “Bet you’re wondering why we came back to the hotel, right?”

“It crossed my  mind,” admitted Dean. 

“Well, I could spend an hour telling you all about what we saw in there,” she told him. “Or we could just watch it on the news at noon. Wanna order a pizza?”

Ninety minutes later, after much discussion, four pair of eyes were glued to the television in Donna and Claire’s room. 

“This is Kylie Christensen for KXTZ news,” said the petite blonde on camera. “We’re coming to you live from the old Kmart store in Helena, where a group of dedicated citizens have banded together to give this dilapidated building a much needed face lift. Without the aid of tax incentives or bond initiatives, this community eyesore has been without a potential buyer for years. It’s been bringing down property values in the surrounding neighborhoods and during that time, the community has seen a noticeable  increase in criminal behavior as vandals and squatters have encroached on this and other empty buildings in the area. 

“I’m here today with Ken Erpelding,” said the reporter as the camera panned left to include a middle-aged man, “and Ken is the Chief Elder of Paradise church. Tell me,” said the blonde, “when did Paradise church first decide to do something about this empty building?”

“Well Kylie,” responded the man, “we’re a relatively new congregation and we’re seeking a building to house our growing congregation. We thought it might be nice, rather than building a new church, to simply renovate an existing structure. Not only will that decrease our start up costs, but it will also revitalize the community which we are proud to be a part of.”

With a pleased smile, the reporter nodded her head before launching into her next question. “So, how far along are you in the process?”

“We’ve made tremendous progress,” beamed the man, turning to gesture behind him. The camera moved slowly in a sweeping arc, showing viewers a one hundred and eighty degree tour of the inside of this new ‘church’. Though the man was no longer on camera, his voice could still be heard. “As you can see,” he was saying, “we began by dividing up the space. To the left you’ll see the hallway that leads back to the sunday school classrooms, to the right you’ll see the fellowship hall, and that,” he said with emphasis, “is the worship center.”

“And in closing,” said Kylie, “what message would the Paradise Church like to send to the community?”

“Well, Kylie,” said the man with a genuine smile, “We’d sure like to invite everyone to come and join us when we open this new house of worship to the public on the thirtieth of this month.”

“Well, that’s quite a deadline,” marvelled the reporter. “Tell us, do you have any worries about completing the work by that date?”

“Not in the least,” he reassured her, “What we’ve accomplished so far is a testament to what people can do when they’re joined together in a worthy endeavor.”

“And this endeavor is worthy,” agreed the blonde with a smile, “of that we can be sure. This was Kylie Christensen for KXTZ news.”

Claire clicked off the TV and all four of them sat there in stunned silence. Dean was looking at Cas. Cas was looking at Claire. Claire was watching Donna and Donna was watching Dean. “Well,” said Dean, finally breaking the silence, “that explains a lot.”


	8. More and More Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Destiella for taking the time to edit this story, even when there's far more fun stuff for her to be doing. She's wonderful and I'm so very lucky to have her help!

 

“We’re leaving?” protested Claire. “Why?”

“Well,” said Dean, “there’s nothing left to do here, why would we stay?”

“All these people,” whispered Claire, “they’ve got families who care about them. We’re not going to just leave them here, are we?”

“We can’t help them,” reasoned Dean, “not yet. But we’re gonna try. I didn’t say we’re closing the case, Claire, I just said we’re done  _ here _ . We needed to know why they all flocked to Helena - and now we know. They’re building a damned church. And, trust me, considering what Jack is, they’re lucky this is all he did to them. Besides, this situation is different than our regular cases. These vics don’t need to be rescued from a monster; they just need to be deprogrammed from a cult.”

Claire nodded, her face growing contemplative. “What’s the next step?” she asked in a small voice.

“Research,” answered Dean. We know what Jack’s doing now and we know which direction he’s headed. Seems like he’s workin’ his way across the country, makin’ disciples as he goes, and sendin’ them off to do his heavy lifting.”

Donna was nodding along, her hands fisted on her hips.

“So, like I said, we need to head back to the bunker. Back there, we’ve got more resources, we’ve got Sam and mom to help. And they could probably use our help too ya know. This world ain’t the only one that needs savin’ anymore.”

“I wanna come,” said Claire firmly. “I can help.”

“We need all the help we can get,” nodded Dean. “But,” he added, “ride with Donna til we get back to South Dakota. Keep ‘er company. Might be a while before ya see her again.”

Claire made no further argument. 

Dean had begun noticing that Claire was far less petulant when he treated her more like a fellow hunter and less like a child. He and Cas excused themselves, leaving the ladies to pack up.

Back in their own room, he and Cas started throwing their things together too. 

“I’m kinda sorry to check out,” chuckled Dean. “We don’t get digs like this too often.”

Cas nodded understandingly and worked silently to gather his things.

The sun was high in the sky when they left, heading south out of Helena. Dean loved the scenery in this part of the country and he enjoyed the view as he contemplated returning to the bunker. They drove through the afternoon and into the evening, stopping when they were a little over halfway back to Sioux Falls. 

Pulling into Bell’s Motor Lodge in the town of Spearfish, Dean sighed deeply as he prepared to be unimpressed. Checking into the motel, Dean at least managed to get two adjacent rooms. 

“Wanna order pizza?” asked Claire as they carried in their bags.

“Sure,” agreed Dean. So, once they’d gotten settled, Dean called in an order. With Cas on one bed and him on the other, Dean tossed his friend the remote and let him choose. They wound up flipping channels until Donna and Claire joined them. As she often did now, Claire gravitated towards Castiel. She perched on his bed and snatched the remote. By the time pizza had arrived, Cas and Claire were heavily engaged in a hilarious round of questions and observations about BoJack Horseman. Dean leaned back next to Donna and watched the two of them, whose interactions were far funnier than the show playing in the background. 

When the ladies left for the evening, Dean pulled out a bottle. As was slowly becoming their nightly custom, Dean and Cas relaxed on their beds and passed a bottle back and forth between them. They talked a little about the case and about the different ways things might play out with Jack. Sadly, as they worked their way through the bottle, Cas began to take responsibility for their situation, saying that he’d been weak and thus susceptible to Jack’s powers of suggestion. 

“That’s why he’s alive now,” sighed Cas, “because I didn’t do something about him back when I had the chance. I should’ve just taken Kelly to heaven… she’d be there now and so would Jack. Instead, I tried to do it my way. I subverted everyone who tried to intervene, even you Dean, and now here we are trying to track him down.”

“Like I toldja before, Cas,” replied Dean, taking the bottle, “You ain’t the only one with regrets and missed opportunities. We were so close, me and Sam, so many damn times… Lucifer, Kelly, and now Jack. But we’ll figure something out. We always do.”

“You know, Dean, I regret so many of the things I’ve done, but the ones I feel most sharply are related to you.”

“Me too,” he admitted, the alcohol making him a bit loose lipped. He went on to tell Cas, for the second time in as many days, that he still felt guilty for abandoning Cas when he’d been human and stripped of his grace. 

Cas spoke of his regret for having betrayed Dean and Sam, not once but twice. 

“Okay, I gotta stop you there,” slurred Dean in response. “The thing with Crowley… goin’ after Purgatory… that I can understand. I have to squint to see the logic of it, but yeah. I get it. What I can’t wrap my head around is The Colt. Cas, man, you stole The Colt. From my room - and right out from under my nose. That one I don’t understand at all. That was nuthin’ but you double crossin’ me for those flyin’ ass monkeys upstairs. All they’ve ever done is use you and manipulate you. But yet, you double crossed  _ me  _ for  _ them _ ?”

“It wasn’t for them, Dean, it was for you,” said Cas calmly, much less affected by the alcohol than Dean was. “You and Sam were trying so hard to find a way around killing… neither of you wanted to kill an innocent. And I, knowing how it feels to do exactly that, didn’t want that for you. I didn’t want you to have to live with the pain and guilt that comes with doing something like that.”

Tipping his head back against the headboard, Dean let out a deep sigh. “It hurt though,” he replied, “more than anything else. I’m not sure why… maybe because you took somethin’ from my room. I mean, my room is my own private place. I never really had one before. But, Cas, do ya know how many people have been in my room?”

“No Dean, how many.”

“Three. Sam, Charlie, and you. That’s it. It’s a big deal for me to let someone in like that - and you just, well, you stole from me. Stole The Colt. To give to the angels. I gotta say,” added Dean, “it still makes me wanna spit nails.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” said Cas, his voice thick with emotion, “I wish I hadn’t. But nothing can change what I’ve done.”

“It’s in the past,” said Dean, passing the bottle back again. 

“Not for me. It won’t be in the past until we’ve stopped Jack and this is over. How could I have been so foolish and weak?” 

It was a question, but it was phrased as a statement. 

“Cas, ya did the wrong thing for the right reasons,” reassured Dean. “I once knew an angel who told me that was understandable. You ‘member that Cas? I told you we were dumbasses back when we were tryin’ to stop our first apocalypse. And you said we were just ‘ _ trusting’ _ ,” he chuckled, “Less dumb… less ass… remember?”

“I remember,” smiled Cas. 

“Now, here we are,” smiled Dean, taking another swallow and passing his friend the bottle, “years later, with the world almost done-in so many times that I’m goddam losin’ count. You and me have fucked-up way more than we’ve gotten right. Both of us. But we’re still here. We’re still fightin’. Man, that’s gotta count for somethin’.”

“Indeed,” agreed Cas, accepting the bottle.

“I gotta hit the head,” said Dean, fumbling to his feet. He staggered into the bathroom without bothering to turn on the light. As he relieved himself, Dean realized that this was the second time he’d forgotten to close the door. 

“Sorry,” he muttered as he exited, “pissed with the door open again. Guess I’m gettin’ too comfortable sharin’ a room with ya.”

“And clearly washing your hands is only for special occasions,” rebutted Castiel. Dean burst out laughing. He raised his heavily lidded eyes to his friend and saw Cas looking at him with a warm expression. Stepping up to the side of the bed, Dean patted the palm-side of his hand against the angel’s stubbly cheek. Much like when he’d teased Cas the other night by resting his unwashed hand on the angel’s thigh, Dean grinned and asked, “Does my dirty hand bother you? Hmm? Betcha you’d like to know which one I actually hold my pecker with, wouldn’t ya. Is it this one?” He baited as he continued cupping the angel’s cheek. “Is this the dirtier hand, Cas? This one on your nice clean-

Suddenly, Dean noticed himself swaying drunkenly. Unable to stabilize his body, he practically swooned. With his weight off balance and his hand still cupped to Cas’ cheek, Dean felt himself start to fall. In the blink of an eye he was ass-over-teakettle and sprawled awkwardly over his friend on the bed. Struggling to right himself, Dean flailed his legs for a second, one arm trapped under his body and his face buried in the shitty motel comforter. 

Beneath him, Dean could feel his angels body shaking with laughter. Even after Dean managed to get his limbs under control, he looked up and saw Castiel still laughing at him. 

“S’not funny,” he barked, taking a moment to re-group. 

Castiel looked down on him and smiled as he said, “It’s a little bit funny, Dean.”

“S’not,” he countered, tongue sluggish in his mouth and eyes blurry. As he tried to focus on his angel’s face, Cas leaned towards him. Much like in the pool last night, Dean suddenly had a feeling like he might be kissed and found himself hopeful for one glorious moment. He willed his eyes to stay locked on Cas but they wouldn’t. They slipped shut without his permission and the last thing he felt was a set of strong hands lifting him. “I wish,” he managed to get out, “I just… wish…

And that was it. Lights out. 

Dean did awaken at one point during the night, long enough to register that he had to piss. As he laid there and thought about how much he didn’t want to get up, he realized that he was warm. Almost too warm. Under the weight of a heavy blanket, Dean laid perfectly still as he racked his brain trying to figure out where he was. It was coming back to him, but slowly. 

Piece by piece, he remembered checking into the motel, having pizza with the girls, and drinking with Cas. 

He’d gotten up to piss, yes, that he remembered. On the heels of that was the memory of having fallen while teasing Cas. If Sam had been around, that never would’ve happened. His brother would’ve called Dean out for the obvious flirting that he’d tried to disguise as teasing. Yeah, being alone so much with Cas was making Dean wreckless. He’d passed out, it would seem, in Castiel’s bed.

In that moment, Dean felt Cas move and his heart leapt for joy as he realized that Cas was right behind him on the bed. In fact, he was warm because the angel was pressed up against him from shoulder to calf. It wasn’t the weight of a blanket that he’d been feeling, but rather it was Cas’s arm and part of his trench that was draped over Dean’s body. 

For so long, Dean had wondered what it would feel like to be held by his angel. And now, it was happening. This was it. _ Hold onto this. Remember. Never forget how this feels.  _

Dean laid there for quite a while just soaking up the warmth and trying to memorize it all… the weight of Cas’s arm and the measure of his deep breaths. He fought to stay awake, not wanting to miss a single moment. But, despite his best efforts, Dean drifted back off at some point. 

Morning came early, the shrill sound of a rotary dial phone jolting him awake from far too close. Startled, he scrambled to a seated position while his hand twitched for a gun that wasn’t there. It was under the pillow on his own bed, after all, and that wasn’t where he’d slept. 

By the second ring, Cas had stepped up to lift the receiver.

“Hello?” 

As Cas answered the phone, Dean paused a moment to gather his thoughts. He realized that the bed next to him wasn’t warm. Cas had already been awake and out of bed for a while. Dean stretched as he listened to his angel carry on a conversation with either Claire or Donna about breakfast and before the call ended, he headed for the bathroom. He remembered to close the door this time, smirking as he did.  

While showering and brushing his teeth, Dean thought only of having shared a bed with Cas and how that had felt and how much he wished it could be that way every single night. His thoughts stayed centered around Cas all day as they drove the rest of the way back to Sioux Falls. The radio played but he payed it no attention, his mind circling around Cas. 

The angel wasn’t acting any differently towards him and that made him wonder if Cas had simply been oblivious to the entire thing. It was also possible that he knew - that he’d woken at some point to find himself swaddled around Dean. But, since Cas had done nothing but stare quietly out the window for most of the drive, it was impossible to know if the angel was aware of their late night cuddle or not. As usual, Castiel gave nothing away.

They made a quick stop for lunch and to gas up, but the group was mostly silent as they ate. It was almost dusk when they rolled into Jody’s driveway. Any lingering doubts Dean had regarding Jody and Donna’s relationship were quickly dispelled as he watched the women greet one another in the driveway. There was absolutely nothing mushy about their exchange, but it was easy to see that there was more than friendship between them. Dean found himself and Cas being pulled inside for dinner and it was at the table with a plate of meat and potatoes in front of him that Dean looked over at Cas and saw his friend looking back at him. This was the first time their eyes had met all day and Dean was surprised by the intensity with which Cas watched him… as if he were trying to solve a complex riddle. 

“What’s with you?” Jody asked, at exactly that moment. Turning to her, Dean saw that she was speaking to him.

“Dunno,” he answered, wondering what face he’d been making. 

“Well, I’d think you’d be happier,” she commented, spooning peas onto her plate. “I mean, you’ve got a break in the case, your mom is back safe and sound, what gives?”

Shrugging and turning his attention back to his plate, Dean replied, “Just tired I guess.”

As they ate, the group discussed the case, their time in Helena, and how they planned to organize the research when they returned to the bunker. But, after eating, they didn’t linger. Claire spent a few minutes packing up more things from her room, and then they were right back out in the driveway saying goodbyes. Cas graciously slid into the backseat, allowing Claire to sit up front with Dean. She didn’t say much, though, slipping on headphones and relaxing back into the seat. Dean turned on the radio and tried to relax too. But honestly, he was still thinking of Cas.

It was after 2am when they finally pulled into the bunker garage. No one was waiting up for them, the halls eerily silent. Dean showed Claire to a room, one that she could use as her own while staying with them. Once she’d been properly settled in, Dean turned down the hall to his own room. Cas stayed behind, still visiting with Claire, and it tugged Dean’s heart strings a little to walk off alone. He’d grown quite accustomed to sharing living space with Cas over the past week or so and his chest felt hollow and empty as he entered his room and got undressed alone. His bed was far more comfortable than even the high quality hotel they’d enjoyed in Helena. But, Dean would rather have slept on the ground in Purgatory if it meant his angel would be laying next to him on the hard dirt.

Despite the unfulfilled yearnings of his heart, Dean did manage to sleep well. When he woke, he felt refreshed. It was nice to be home. Pulling on his robe and slippers, Dean headed for the kitchen. That’s where he found his brother. Sam was sliding a sorry excuse for an omelette onto a plate at the counter. 

“Those are supposed to be yellow,” he grumbled as he reached for the coffee pot.

Sam tipped his chin to acknowledge Dean and simply said, “You’re back.”

Taking a sip and then setting his mug down, Dean answered as he turned towards the refrigerator and pulled the heavy door open. “Damn straight, I’m back,” he growled as he pulled out a package of bacon, “and the shit show of egg-white omelettes and textured vegetable protein has come to an end. There’s gonna be real food cookin’ in the bunker.”

“You know,” retorted Sam, sitting down to dig into his breakfast, “Mom took over on the bacon patrol while you were gone. No one’s been meat-starved around here.”

“Mom’s cookin’?” Dean gaped.

Just then, from behind him, Dean heard his mother’s sing-song voice chime in. “Every morning.”

“Well, whadaya know,” he smirked. Somehow, Dean found himself both irritated by her and pleased with her in equal measure. 

“I know that in the alternate reality where Eileen grew up, no one can even remember the last time they had bacon. It didn’t seem fair to have it so readily available here and not be sure she got some every morning.”

“You’re spoiling me,” added Eileen as she came walking in. Dean saw her signing as she spoke and didn’t miss the way her eyes softened when they fell on Sam. “It’s going to be twice as hard to go back,” she added, “now that I know what I’ll be missing.”

“What do you like best?” Sam asked, sipping his coffee as he waited for her to answer. 

Leaning against the counter, Eileen looked thoughtful as she deliberated and then finally answered. “Hmm. I think the best part of being in your world is not having to keep a gun in my hand while I use the outhouse.”

“So it’s not that you mind the outhouse,” surmised Dean teasingly, “but just that you have to use it while packin’?”

“I’m a simple girl,” she answered, her lips pursed in a smirk. “I like running water, but I can do without it.”

Dean pulled a cast-iron skillet onto the heating burner and began laying strips of bacon into it. Next to him, Mary pulled down a box of pancake mix and began whipping up batter. It was surprising how well she already knew her way around the kitchen. “Someone’s been practicing,” he said to her, still not sure if he liked sharing the kitchen with her or not. Honestly, he liked that she was making an effort at domesticity. But part of him just wished that she’d unapologetically be herself since that had been her way up until now. Seeing her try for them was off-putting. Perhaps because he knew it couldn’t possibly last. Yes, that was probably it. Much like Eileen, Dean didn’t want to embrace a lifestyle that would almost certainly wind up being temporary.

As the group puttered about, throwing together breakfast, Dean noticed that Claire had drifted in. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were ringed in violet and they were bloodshot. Her bed-head hair resembled a haystack. 

“Cas keep you up all night  yacking?” he asked her as she poured milk onto a bowl of cereal. 

She shot him a disparaging look and said, “Nope. I just can’t sleep here. It’s too damned quiet.”

“That’s why you’ve got headphones, right?” replied Dean.

“It’s too early for this,” she grumbled, digging into her cereal. 

Cas eventually joined the rest of them, sitting at the table but not partaking in any sustenance. The entire group migrated to the library after the meal, and that’s when Dean finally got a look at the progress being made on the research front. Sam, as it turned out, was spending most of his time researching Jack. He had a mountain of stuff to go over with Dean, Cas, and Claire. But, Dean found himself unable to pay attention. Over Sammy’s shoulder, he was looking at the table in the war room. 

“What is all that?” he finally asked, stepping around his big tree of a baby brother to get a closer look. 

“Oh,” Sam replied off-handedly, “That’s all Mom and Eileen’s work.”

“The fuck?” he found himself asking as he walked the length of the table and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

“I don’t touch it,” said Sam firmly, “and you better not either,” he added as Dean’s hand snuck out to touch the surface.

“You let them color on it?” he growled, looking at clusters of jumbled scribbles and lines and circles. The entire surface of the table was a map of Earth under glass. And now, it was completely covered in red, green, blue, and black magic marker.

“It’s dry-erase,” explained Sam. “Hence the no-touching.”

“What is all this?” Dean asked, his eyes skimming over the surface slower now and still unable to make sense of the markings. 

Coming to stand at his side, his mother was looking at the table and not at Dean as she filled him in. “This is the overview,” she told him. “It’s the locations of objects that interest us, notes regarding references back to books and weapons, stuff like that. The red indicates a correlating spell or book that we’ve got here in the bunker. The green is a weapon of some kind and it’s location, if known. The blue marks are related to locations or people who have weapons or knowledge that we’d like to have. I’m sure you get the idea.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. It was hard not to be impressed. 

“So…” said Sam, moving back towards the library table, “like I was saying. I’ve managed to track some of the land purchases.”

“Land?” Dean parroted, still looking at the colorful table as he stepped away from it slowly.

“Yeah, Dean, land. There’s no way to know for sure because it’s hard to track these people. Lots of them are using resources that aren’t easily traced… especially the ones who are still officially listed as missing persons. But, I have managed to get a line on some of them who are simply using maiden names or false corporations to hide or utilize resources.”

“Fake corporations? That’s so…”

“It’s actually not as difficult as it sounds, Dean. Anyone can start up a corporation in almost any state with just a little bit of easy paperwork and some nominal fees. But, once they do that, their financial movements get a lot harder to track. Remember that elder of the Paradise Church that you saw on TV?”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember his name.”

“Ken Erpelding. He’s actually the majority shareholder in several brand new companies, all of them LLC.”

“What’s that?”

“Limitied Liability Corporation.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Limited liability to the investors. They can make money from the business but not be held liable for damages. And this guy, Ken, he’s heading half a dozen right now. Well, half a dozen that we know about anyway.”

“Ya don’t say,” nodded Dean, understanding that this was a piece of the puzzle but frustrated that he didn’t know enough about business to formulate a guestimate as to what it meant.

“Yep. And between those LLC’s our man Ken has purchased a shit ton of real-estate in the the last few weeks. Some of these companies made substantial purchases the day after they were formally created.”

“So, this guy’s buying up land?”

“Mostly old buildings and vacant lots, but yes. Any guesses on what he’s doing with all that property Dean?”

“Churches,” he spat, his mind catching up only to leap ahead and conjure pictures for him. In the blink of an eye, Dean’s entire concept of the Paradise Church changed. He saw it the way others would see it… a new church. Fast-growing. Going national. 

“Right,” nodded Sam, seating himself at his laptop and pivoting it so that Dean could see the screen. “Here’s a map I’ve created. All the red dots are locations where I anticipate a church springing up. Considering how quickly they got off the ground in Helena, I think it’s safe to assume that we’ll be seeing active, open churches across the country in a matter of weeks or months. And Dean,” added Sam, “these are just the ones I  _ know _ about.”

Staring at the smattering of red dots on the screen, Dean had to work hard to swallow. This was going to be a problem. He wasn’t sure how yet, because it all seemed so benign. But it wasn’t. He could feel the evil of it clenching around his heart like cold fingers. They squeezed and his chest tightened in response. 

When Eileen entered the library, she nodded a cursory greeting to Dean and then leaned in to show Sam something. She had a page marked in an old book and was asking Sam about a particular spell. He got up from his chair and followed her out of the room. He’d been speaking to her as they left, but Dean didn’t hear a word of their exchange, his mind still racing with this new knowledge of how quickly things were changing. Whatever Jack was up to, he was leaps and bounds ahead of them. His power and influence were a rapidly growing cancer that he had no idea how to fight. Every moment that he spent thinking about how little he understood, was a moment that saw Jack propelling forward on a well thought out plan. 

What was the end game? That was the biggest thing Dean didn’t understand. Where was all this leading?

“What is it honey?” asked his mother, entering the room and dropping a stack of books on the table. 

“Huh?” he asked, having not even heard what she said to him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, coming to stand next to him and cupping the side of his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

For some reason, though it was illogical, Dean shivered at her motherly touch and stepped away from her. “N-nothing,” he said as he stepped back. “I just, I think I need more coffee.”

“Alright,” she replied kindly. “Just let me know if you need anything.” With that said, she dropped into a chair at the table and began digging into her books. 

Dean was out of sorts all day. Around dinner time, Dean excused himself to the kitchen and began looking for something to eat. There was a growing itch beneath his skin and to even tolerate it, he had to keep moving… keep his hands busy. There was a verifiable enemy with a name, a face, known locations, and identifiable victims with names and social security numbers and bank accounts. He needed to be out hunting this new threat. But that was impossible because there was nothing he could really do. 

This wasn’t a dark evil that bore fangs or claws… there was nothing to shoot or take a swing at. The whole situation was different than anything they’d faced before and yet somehow vaguely familiar at the same time. There was an inescapable sense of deja vu toying with him too but it fluttered about in the periphery of his mind like a moth at a porch light, unwilling to simply be still or be seen up close; be examined. 

When Cas approached him, Dean was standing at the refridgerator with the door ajar as he stared inside. He had no idea how long he’d been there either. His eyes were scanning the scant contents, primarily bottles of condiments, but his brain wasn’t invested in the task of finding something suitable with which to make a meal. 

“What are you doing?” asked Cas from behind him. 

“Thinking,” answered Dean tersely. 

“About food?”

“I guess.”

“Dean, something is troubling you.” 

“Ya think, Cojak?”

“You seem apprehensive. What can I do to assist you?”

“Dunno,” he admitted, abandoning the pretense of food and letting the door to the fridge slip closed. Crossing the room to the table, Dean sank into a chair. “Jack is way ahead of us on this Cas, and I’ve got nothin’.”

“Perhaps for the time being, we should just wait and see. He’s just building churches Dean, there are far worse things he could be up to. Maybe our efforts would be better invested in helping Eileen. There’s an apocalypse in her world and she could use our help.”

The thought was enticing. The apocalypse… now that was a game he was good at. It required skills he’d been honing for years. “Maybe you’re right,” he nodded. “But Cas, you do see that there’s something really, really wrong here, right?”

“You mean Jack?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not sure, Dean. If what he wants to do is build Paradise, perhaps we should step back and let him.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, but even as he said it Dean knew that there was no way he was going to sit back and watch Jack build a religious empire on American soil. Unwilling to discuss the case any further while still unsure about it, Dean shifted his focus back to the empty refrigerator. “We need groceries,” he said, finally able to look Cas in the eye. “I’m going to make a trip to town.”

Rising from his chair, Dean walked past Cas and headed back to the library. 

“I’m goin’ to get some groceries,” said Dean to the group as he walked through. Palming his pockets to be sure he had both his wallet and keys, he attempted to be amiable by adding, “Anyone need anything?”

Faces turned towards him and mouths opened to speak, but Dean didn’t wait to hear what they had to say. He barked roughly, “Nope? No one needs anything? Good.” 

Having not given anyone pause to actually jump in and add an item to the list forming in his head, Dean left them behind. He ducked down the hall towards the garage at a steady pace, giving no one the impression that he was amenable to the idea of company. Then, sliding into his baby, Dean found himself driving off alone. 

Having left Cas behind on purpose, Dean didn’t turn on the radio as he roared down the highway. He needed time to think, time without his mother, his brother, or even his angel giving him new information or asking him questions he couldn’t answer. 

Making the trip to the nearest real grocery store allowed Dean precious alone time. He put the quiet time to good use, but when he returned, he was no closer to a viable plan for how to deal with Jack. But, at least the urge to get up and  _ do _ something had been temporarily satisfied. He hauled armloads of supplies down the hall to the kitchen and, thankfully, nobody came to help him. The kitchen stayed quiet as he put away the items he’d bought and set to work making dinner. 

When several pounds of hamburger had been patted into patties and the morning’s bacon grease was popping in a hot skillet, Dean dropped the first hamburgers into it and began slicing onion and tomatoes. He alternated burgers through the pan, piling them on a platter. Between his duties to the meat, he assembled plates of veggies and cheese. After setting out the condiments and flatware, Dean found himself pleased. He’d put together an enviable meal, he thought, and as he set out the grub he finally called the others. 

They came from the library and grabbed plates, praising his efforts as they piled fixin’s on their hamburgers. With chips and store bought potato salad rounding out their plates, the group all exited the kitchen in favor of the library where they ate and continued to discuss their ideas for averting the apocalypse in bizarro world. Dean stayed in the kitchen, eating with one hand and cleaning his mess with the other. When he’d finished putting things away and wiping down counters, he turned and found Cas watching him from the doorway. 

“What?” he barked roughly.

“You seem troubled.”

“Do I?” he bristled, “What makes you say that?”

“Well for starters,” replied Cas, stepping closer, “you didn’t take me to the store with you. Since I’ve been back, you’ve not left me behind even once. Why now?”

“Dunno,” he relented, feeling himself soften in the face of his friend’s honesty. “Guess I just needed some ‘me’ time.” He chuckled as he said it, hoping to set Castiel’s mind at ease but it was plain to see that Cas wanted answers from him. Maybe he was curious to know why his hunter-friend was so surly today, or perhaps he’d noticed that Dean was acting different towards him now that they were back in the bunker. 

Unwilling to give any insights to the angel, but also unwilling to deprive himself of the company being offered, Dean decided that his agenda for the rest of the evening needed to be one that would keep him in close proximity to Castiel while limiting their conversation. That easily narrowed him to two choices. Shooting range or bedroom. It wasn’t even a choice.

“Hey Cas,” he said as he dropped his rag and headed out into the hall, “I’ve got an idea.”

Following behind Dean as he left the kitchen, Cas stayed a step or two behind. When Dean arrived at his bedroom door, he opened it and ushered Cas inside. The last time they’d been in this room together, Cas had duped him and made off with The Colt. Trying, for once, not to ruin things before they even got started, Dean swallowed down all the snarky-ass comments that wanted to roll off his tongue and decided to play nice. 

Wanting to insure privacy despite knowing it wasn’t really needed, Dean shut the door behind them and then walked over to the side table where his record player was. Without looking back at the seraph who now hovered awkwardly, Dean spoke over his shoulder and said, “I made you that tape of Zep tunes. What was your favorite song on it?”

Squatting down to flip through albums, Dean waited for Cas’s answer before selecting one. When the response came, it was heartbreaking. 

“The Rain Song.”

Dean had to close his eyes for a moment before he could actually find the strength to touch his finger to the corner of the album. Then, sighing as he did it, Dean pulled Houses of the Holy from its resting place. He took the vinyl from its sheath and laid it reverently on the turntable. 

“Take off your coat,” Dean instructed firmly. When he rose, Dean looked at Castiel and added, “Loosen your tie.”

In response to the questioning look he received, Dean simply said, “There’s a right and a wrong way to do things Cas. No one listens to Zep all buttoned up. You have to chill.”

Cas followed his instructions and Dean turned back to the record player, bending down to plug the headset into the receiver. “Lay down,” he told his angel, gesturing to the bed. Cas complied, looking at Dean expectantly when he was settled. 

Sitting down on the side of the bed, Dean turned the clunky headphones in his hands. Twisting the ear pieces around backwards, he made it so that the headset could lay between them on his single pillow. “We’ve gotta share,” he said by way of explanation, “cause I’ve only got one set.”

Cas nodded understanding, though Dean had no idea if the angel really knew what was about to happen. Dean turned away then, to bend over his record player and carefully lift the needle. He gently placed it on the wide line that indicated the song break between the first two tracks and then, before he could lose his nerve, Dean plunked down on the bed next to Cas. He shifted his body a few times, trying to get comfortable. 

Sharing a pillow was necessary if they were to share the headphones, but it wasn’t comfortable without pulling his arm up under the edge of the pillow to keep his head from rolling off. He didn’t have to look over at Castiel to know he’d done the same. He felt the angel mimic his movements and copy his body position. The introduction of The Rain Song was playing and Dean grappled the headset, cupping it to his ear as he said, “Like this,” to Cas. 

Once more, the angel copied him. Cas’ bent elbow came to rest on top of Dean’s, simply because there was nowhere else for it to lay. Despite the skittering pulse that physical contact seemed to incite, Dean sank down into the bed, the tension leaving his body as the gentle tune worked it’s magic. 

As he slowly relaxed, so did Castiel. At last, they were both comfortable. 

Dean had thought long and hard about what to put on the cassette tape he’d made for Castiel. The Rain Song almost hadn’t made the cut, but not because it didn’t belong. He’d almost excluded the song because it was it was a little too revealing. It was an obvious love song, and the words were almost painful near the end. This song was quite revealing of Dean’s feelings and well suited to the relationship that he and Cas had been building over the years, the good and the bad of it. Despite its brutal honesty, Dean had wound up putting The Rain Song on his mix tape for Cas and now here they were, listening to it together, with Castiel having professed it to be his favorite. Even with so much wrong in the world, worlds, this was right. It also felt good, so very good, to be back in close proximity to Cas after a night apart. 

Dean had been different with Cas in Helena for lots of reasons. Regardless of why, his interactions with Castiel had been less gaurded as they’d worked the case in Montana. Returning to the bunker had been an adjustment and some distance between them had been the result. 

Perhaps that was why it felt good to lay here and listen to music together… to take something intimate like this and make it part of their ways here in the bunker, even with Sammy and Mary around. It was, Dean realized in hindsight, the bridge over a gap. This openness he’d been unwittingly sharing with Cas as he’d focused on the angel’s experiences was now more real because it wasn’t confined to a single motel room on an unusual hunt. They were back in real life now and still sharing personal space as they had in Helena. It felt like a victory to lay here, unashamed, and share an intimate moment with Castiel. If Sam came to the door and saw them like this, Dean now knew that he wouldn’t downplay what was happening. He wouldn’t be defensive about it either. His brother was on to him anyway, had been for a long damn time. There was no point in trying to pretend that he didn’t want Cas. To do so was an insult to Sam’s intelligence at this point. Yep. It was time to own up to what he wanted and stop trying to hide it. After all, he was trying to woo his angel wasn’t he? That’s what this was all building towards, right? He wanted Cas to stay - to stop flitting off to parts unknown and settle down with him - in whatever capacity that was possible. 

How could he possibly expect Castiel to make the right choice about Dean if he didn’t even know what was being offered? Whether Dean was comfortable extending it or not, Cas deserved to be offered an unfettered invitation. 

Some things are clearer in hindsight; and after so many years of poor decision making regarding Castiel, Dean found himself feeling quite certain he was doing things the right way this time. He was absolutely certain that the best way to offer Castiel a place by his side, was to let him occupy that space without over-thinking it. Then, with his angel having experienced how it felt to actually be the companion at Dean’s side, he’d be able to easily decide if he wanted to stay there permanently. 

Cas had never been ashamed to tell others that he and Dean shared a strong bond. That had always been Dean’s hang up. He’d rolled his eyes when anyone, angel or human, had made mention of their relationship, hoping to keep anyone from knowing how much he secretly treasured what they shared. The habit of downplaying their relationship was ingrained now and difficult to break. But Dean wanted to do it. He felt ready to rip the band-aid off. The idea that one or both of them might actually die with things unsaid between them wasn’t as easy to swallow as it had once been. As with many other things, Dean had been foolish. But he didn’t want to be that anymore. 

In the silence between songs, Dean glanced over at Cas for the first time. His angel was watching him intently. In a quiet voice, Dean said, “What?”

“This is nice,” said Cas, turning his eyes back towards the ceiling and letting them slip closed. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, probably too softly to be heard, “Yeah, Cas, it is.”

The rest of side one played itself out and when he got up to flip the record over, Cas asked him a question.

“Which was your favorite, Dean?”

“Probably The Rain Song,” he admitted. He could feel a smile sliding into place as he looked back towards his friend who was still relaxing on the bed. Cas was smiling at him too. With their eyes on locked on one another, it was easy for Dean to delude himself into thinking that they were both thinking the same thing. 

“It’s about love, isn’t it…” whispered Castiel, “...the good and the bad of it. Staying with someone through both and feeling it change with time.”

“I think so,” he replied, sinking to one knee in front of the turntable.

“Is there someone you think of when you hear it?” ventured the angel. 

Dean swallowed hard. He worked to keep his shaking hand from scratching the record as he dropped the needle onto it again. “Yes,” he admitted. 

Holding his breath, Dean waited. It seemed that Cas would likely ask him who he thought of whenever he listened to Robert Plant sing of love and he was both excited and terrified at what he might say if Cas asked him that question. But, the moment stretched out between them and when Dean finally worked up the courage to look over at his friend, Cas’s head was back to resting on the pillow. His eyes were closed as he presumably listened to the next song. 

Dean sighed in relief and climbed back up onto his bed. They listened to albums for quite a while, Dean almost wondering if he was somehow challenging his brother to come looking for them… to see what they were doing. As he thought about it, he realized that he was growing brave. Cas would shoot him down if he actually made a pass. Of that much, Dean felt certain. But he was going to do it. Soon. When the moment was right. And honestly, there were occasional moments when Dean thought he felt reciprocation from Castiel… a look now and then that made him sit up and take notice. It happened just often enough to keep Dean clinging to hope. 

He didn’t notice himself getting drowsy or nodding off, but upon waking, Dean realized that he had to piss and wondered how long he’d been dozing. He sat up and, as he did, Cas did also. 

“Sorry,” he said as he got to his feet, “Guess I fell asleep.”

“Yes,” answered Cas, also rising from the bed. “I - I didn’t want to wake you. That’s why I stayed even after the music shut off.”

Dean glanced over at the record player. It was still, the needle having come back to rest in it’s cradle. According to his watch, it was after midnight. They’d been in here for hours and it was strange that no one had come looking for them. “I gotta piss,” fumbled Dean, wishing there was some way to ask Cas to stay longer. 

“Me too,” said Cas, following Dean out into the hall. They walked quietly toward the Men of Letters bathroom which bore striking resemblance to an old fashioned school locker room. Dean felt his pulse pick up when he wondered if Cas would stand next to him at a urinal and go… or if he’d enter a stall and close the door. 

A chuckle began to build up at the base of Dean’s throat as he imagined himself leaning over to look at Cas’ junk while he pissed at a urinal. He could jokingly say that it was only fair to see his junk now that Cas had seen his the other night in the hot tub. He didn’t have the nerve, though, even though Cas did stand next to him to piss. They both kept their eyes straight forward the entire time. The silence was excruciating. 

“Thought you only had to piss when you were human,” said Dean, if only to break the maddening tension.

“Dean, I assume you understand how the human body works. Whether I’m an angel or a man, what goes in must come out. If I eat and drink, then I must urinate and defecate.”

Wow, there was a funny thought. Angel of the Lord, sitting on the can and reading the paper while he backed one out. Dean snickered, unable to hold it back.

“Why is that funny?”

“Because,” laughed Dean, unwilling to explain the real cause of his laughter, “you say urinate and defecate. I say say piss ‘n shit.”

Cas backed up from the urinal at the same time Dean did, and the two of them zipped up simultaneously. 

“You say potato, I say potaahto,” retorted Cas, shrugging in an utterly human way. Dean was grinning as they walked back towards their respective rooms. Cas stopped when he reached his own door, and Dean almost stopped with him. He kept walking though, because aside from just inviting Cas to spend the night with him, there was nothing left to say. 

From behind him, Dean heard Cas call out, “Dean?”

“Hmm?” he replied as he turned around.

“Do you  _ ever _ wash your hands?”

“Only when I piss on them,” he joked, laughter breaking as he turned away. He was back in his room with the door closed before he realized that Cas hadn’t washed his either. That thought only made him laugh even harder. Euphoric from their time together and a little bit horny, Dean found himself considering a quickie with his right hand. But, as he looked at the bed, blankets rumpled on both sides and headphones lying in the center, Dean opted for just kicking off his shoes and restarting the record player. Shoving his way under the covers, he put the headset on to listen as he fell asleep. 

At breakfast, Dean found himself feeling better. He knocked about the kitchen making french toast and sausage, offering the finished product to everyone and using a spatula to slide the goods onto plates as requested. 

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” commented Sam. 

“M’always in a good mood,” joked Dean.

“Yeah,” replied Sammy with an eyeroll, “sure you are.”

When everyone who wanted food had gotten it, Dean sank down in a chair with his own plate and buried his food in butter and syrup. “Anybody got plans tonight?” he asked.

Several heads, including those belonging to his mother and Claire, swiveled his way. 

“What?”

“Well, Jack isn’t getting any younger,” rebuked Claire, “I figured we’d be working on the case.”

“And in our spare time,” added Mary, “we have an apocalypse to end.”

“And I’m gonna get right on that,” replied Dean cooley, “right after breakfast. But then later tonight,” he added, “I’m gonna take Cas to the movies. Anyone else feel like doing something besides research?”

Claire looked over at Dean like he’d grown a second head. “The movies?”

“What?” Dean tossed back innocently, “Dudes never been to the movies, like, ever. They just remade Blade Runner. It’s the perfect time.”

Slowly but surely, everyone resumed eating. Claire seemed to be overly focused on Dean for the rest of the day, though. It was almost dinner time when she found him in the store room, going through boxes with his mom. “What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Helping her find stuff,” he responded, gesturing to the box that was open before them on the floor.

“Sorry,” she said sarcastically, “I just thought you’d be helping us with the case.”

“Look,” said Dean pointedly, “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a big help so far. But Claire, you’re not in charge of the case. You’re helping on the case. So until someone appoints you the den-mother to this pack of boy scouts, you need to do more of the helping and less of the nagging.”

Mary looked back and forth between Claire and Dean and then addressed the young girl. “If you’re running out of leads to chase,” she said, “I could use some help in here. There’s only two of us on the case as it is,” she replied, “I think that’s few enough.”

Dean rolled his eyes as Claire left and returned to what he had been doing. 

“She’s just eager,” placated Mary, “I remember being her age.”

“Well, I’m not one for bein’ bossed around,” he grumbled. 

“The case with Jack isn’t that important,” said Mary firmly. “ It’s far more critical that we work to help Eileen end the apocalypse. Perhaps if you explain things to Claire, she’ll come around.”

“Nah, somebody should be keeping their eye on Jack,” countered Dean, “He’s up to no good.”

“Why?” asked Mary, turning to face him, “Why can’t we just see what happens. He’s starting a church not ending the world.”

“He’s starting a cult.”

“There are already tons of them. We’re not going after any of those. Dean, why can’t you just let him be? See what he does before condemning him?”

“Since when are you on his side?” Dean asked, genuinely wondering what his mother could be thinking.

“I’m on the side of logic,” she said firmly, “and he’s not hurting anyone.”

“He’s taking people from their families if nothing else. Besides,” he added, “it’s fucking creepy.”

Mary put down the box she’d been sorting and set her eyes on him pointedly. “You mean creepy, like, putting the moves on an angel? Creepy like that?”

Dean was stunned. In the face of her disdain, he back peddled. Where had his resolve gone? Why was he so flustered and why was he racking his brain for some way to deny it?

“W-We’re friends,” he said flatly, hoping she’d leave it alone.

“Friends?”

“Um, yeah, friends,” Dean fumbled. His mind was reeling. What had she seen? How did she know? Why was she bringing this up now? If she’d wondered what he and Cas were doing behind a closed door for most of last night, why hadn’t she just knocked? Even if she was too embarrassed to knock at the time, she could’ve said something at breakfast, or over the last two hours they’d spent alone in the storeroom together. 

Wait. 

That was it. 

The timing… this discussion was a distraction. She was steering the conversation away from Jack.

“Why are you changing the subject?” he challenged, feeling stronger now that he knew her words weren’t necessarily an attack but more of a tool to manipulate him. His body was tense as he stood before Mary and tried to figure out what her motives were. 

“Look,” she said, adjusting her stance and bringing her hand to rest on her hip. “My point is that we don’t all share the same opinions on what’s right, wrong, or even proper. You might not agree, but I think we have enough monsters to fight without having to add religious fanatics to the list.”

“He’s not a religious fanatic,” replied Dean, striving to remain calm, “he’s a nephilim… fathered by Satan. I think there’s a reasonable expectation that hunters keep their eye on him.”

“Fine,” said his mother, relaxing her posture, “We’ll keep an eye on him. But I’m not signing on for a witch hunt.”

As he watched her walking away, Dean let out a sigh. He’d spent last night tucked away in his room with Castiel and feeling so damn good about it. He’d had a “let them come” mentality regarding the rest of the world as he’d lain with his angel, almost wanting others to come looking for them… to find them cozy in Dean’s bed and make their assumptions. He wasn’t crazy about having an audience when Cas inevitably shot him down, but the effort of hiding what he wanted had worn him thin over the years and he’d thought he was ready to be done with the pretenses. 

Now, though, Dean was gripped by the realization that someone  _ had _ come looking last night. Mary. 

She had come to Dean’s closed bedroom door and known who was behind it. But instead of knocking on the door, she’d made assumptions. It was obvious that she thought something dirty had been happening behind that door. She thought Dean and Cas were sleeping together. A cold, icy shiver snaked his way up his spine as he remembered the contempt in her voice when she’d referred to his actions as ‘creepy’. In light of that, Dean found himself re-thinking things.

When he’d first met Castiel, Dean had thought like his mother did - that his lust towards a member of the heavenly host was dirty and shameful. Sinful. However, as lust had grown into friendship, respect, and even love over the years, Dean had stopped thinking of his feelings as something unseemly. But now that he’d been reminded of it, those old feelings clawed their way back to the surface. Like the roots of strong tree, the shame he’d once felt anchored itself into him at his deepest level and he could feel it’s gnarly grip constricting his heart. 

Dean spent most of the afternoon watching his mother surreptitiously. It had not escaped his attention that her harsh words about him and Cas hadn’t come out until they’d disagreed about the priority of cases. She obviously felt that Eileen’s apocalypse took precedence over any investigation into Jack Kline. And, clearly, she was willing to dish out some low blows to Dean in order to make her position clear. 

As he watched Mary close her book and leave the room, Dean slid over into the chair next to his brother. “Hey,” he whispered, “how’ve you ‘n mom been gettin’ along?”

“Fine, I guess,” replied Sam, “I mean, she’s preoccupied with Eileen but other than that, she seems okay. At least she’s here with us instead of hunting with -

“Don’t even say it,” barked Dean, cringing at the thought of Ketch with his mom. “So, you haven’t noticed her actin’ weird?”

“Who’s to know what’s weird,” answered Sam thoughtfully, “I mean, it’s not like we grew up with her. And since she’s been back, she’s been all over the map.”

“Yeah, she’s been unpredictable,” agreed Dean, leaning back in his chair as he thought it over. “But ya know what’s been consistent?” he asked.

“What?”

“Leaving.”

Sam looked over at him questioningly.

“Sammy, she’s been MIA from day one. I mean, sure, she’s dropped in a few times. She even slept here a handful of nights. But she was always restless. Anxious. Jonsin’ to get outta here and be on the road.”

Sam appeared to consider Dean’s words, his eyes glazing over a bit as he thought about their mother. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But it seems to have passed now. She’s been doing great, Dean. Really. She’s not looking for excuses to leave anymore. In fact, she seems pretty settled here. She’s been helping me and Eileen and she even cooks sometimes.”

“It’s weird,” said Dean firmly.

“I thought that was what you wanted,” replied Sam.

Dean let out a long sigh as he admitted, “Yeah, it was. It is. And the fact that I’m getting something I wanted… that’s weird too.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be looking a gift-horse in the mouth,” Sam said thoughtfully, “just be glad she’s coming around.”

“Yeah,” agreed Dean, “You’re probably right.”

A short while later, Mary stepped into the library to inform the group that she’d made dinner. Sam nudged Dean and gave him an imploring look. Dean nodded agreement, silently promising to try and enjoy their mother. 

“I smell bacon,” he proclaimed with a smile as they entered the kitchen.

“BLT’s” said Mary, dropping a stack of plates on the counter. “You’re father used to love these,” she smiled. Dean smiled back as he grabbed a plate and set about fixing himself a sandwich. When the bacon was stacked precariously high, Dean added sliced tomatoes and mayo. He skipped the lettuce completely and then smashed the entire thing under his palm to make it easier to eat. Tomato juice kept running down his wrist as he ate and he continually wiped it with a napkin. He chuckled quietly to himself as he saw Cas experiencing the same issue. The angel’s expression was comical, but Dean had to turn his head and look away as Castiel leaned in and licked the juice from his wrist. Sadly his efforts to not watch and enjoy were noticed by his mother. She was staring right at him. Turning his eyes back to his plate, Dean remained silent during the rest of the meal.

Cas and Claire discussed the their recent findings on the Jack Kline case, while Mary and Eileen debated the usefulness of the key to Oz, which they’d stumbled upon in their digging.

“I understand why you’re considering it,” Mary said to Eileen, “the door to OZ is easy to open. But what are we going to do when we get there?”

“I’m not saying it’s the best idea we’ve had,” said Eileen, setting down her fork so she could sign, “I’m just saying it could be viable as a ‘Plan B’.”

“Mom’s right,” said Sam, signing to Eileen, “Oz looks pretty in the books, but it’s citizens have been at war with dark forces for generations. They’re only now starting to stabilize. It’s not an ideal world to enter as a refugee.”

Dean watched Mary as much as he could without her noticing. He thought of her harsh words before and tried to see past them since they were obviously a diversion anyway. Besides, it’s not like he’d expected unwavering support from her if he came out as gay. And that’s what he was already starting to do in some capacity, just by dropping his pretenses and eyerolls regarding Castiel and their ‘bond’. Allowing others to see him pursue the angel would be another step in that direction.

His mother’s reaction was to be expected. She was, after all, cut from the same cloth that their father was. That much had been clear from day one with Mary. She was nothing like he’d remembered. Imagined. 

Mary was a bad-ass hunter who bore a hunter’s disposition. Additionally, his mother was the product of a different generation… one that had placed little value in diversity or the acceptance of marginalized groups. 

So, her negative feelings about Dean’s sexuality didn’t surprise him. In fact, he’d expected her to have some reservations. But, the angel-related guilt was something he’d made his peace with long ago and because of that, he’d completely forgotten that others might actually take issue with the idea of him and Cas as a couple. What bothered Dean more than anything else was that, again, his mother seemed far more interested in the hunt than in being a mother. According to Sam, she’d been making an effort to be more maternal. Right now he was eating the evidence that Sam was right. But, it was hollow somehow, Dean just couldn’t put his finger on why.

By the time they’d finished the meal, Dean was getting tired of thinking about it. As he dropped his dishes in the sink he gave his mother a stern look, one that dared her to say anything, and then he looked right over her shoulder at Castiel. 

“Hey Angel, you still up for a movie? They’re showin’ the new Blade Runner a few towns over. That’s one I gotta see.”

In his peripheral vision, Dean caught the movement when Sam’s head snapped towards him. Dean kept his eyes on Castiel as he waited for his answer, but he could feel the tension growing thick around him. Disapproval was rolling off of Mary in waves and Sam had stopped short, still holding the stack of dirty plates he’d been carrying to the sink. He seemed to be stunned into silence and Dean would have paid good money to be able to see the look of utter surprise on his brother’s face. Even Eileen seemed to know that something was happening, though she likely lacked the background knowledge to understand the significance of Dean asking Cas to the movies. Perhaps if she was as intuitive has her doppelganger had been, she had already picked up on Dean’s longing. Sam had, ages ago, and Mary had seen it in far less time. 

“Yes, Dean,” replied Cas, “I think I might enjoy seeing  a movie.”

With his chin held high and hoping to appear more confident than he felt, Dean turned to leave the room without looking at either his brother or mother. He tipped his head to indicate Cas should follow and then left the bunkers kitchen. Cas trailed him silently down the hall and paused in the doorway when Dean ducked into his room to grab his wallet and keys. 

“C’mon buddy,” he said, clapping his angel on the shoulder in passing, “Let’s go to town.”

The drive from the bunker to the nearest movie theater wasn’t a long one. Dean took his time and still it only took about 15 minutes to reach Smith Center. It was a tiny town, but still larger than Lebanon. 

If Cas had noticed the strain between Dean and Mary, he’d not spoken of it. He’d spent most of the drive looking straight ahead. Maybe he’d been admiring the sunset. After all, it was lovely. When they drove down Main Street, Cas stared out the passenger window at the scenery. There wasn’t much to see. 

Dean navigated smoothly into a parking space and the two of them got out. This wasn’t a multiplex, it was a very old theater with only screen and one show. Pulling out his wallet, Dean stepped up to buy their tickets at the same counter where the refreshments were sold. 

“We just ate,” replied Cas when Dean offered him popcorn.

“It’s part of the experience, Cas.”

“Alright,” the angel reluctantly agreed.

Carrying an armload of unnecessary snacks, Dean led the way into the dimly lit theater. His inner teenager wanted seats in the back row… just in case an opportunity for something physical presented itself. But then he practically laughed out loud at the absurdity of such a thought. They’d just shared a motel room for several nights - most of them drunk. If nothing had happened then, the odds of something happening tonight were slim to none. So, instead of moving towards the back, Dean chose a spot right in the middle where they had the best view.

Castiel picked at his popcorn as he listened to Dean tell him about the original Blade Runner movie that he’d seen in his youth. He and Sam had watched it for the first time on HBO in a cheap motel room when he was thirteen. It hadn’t been the first movie he’d seen starring Harrison Ford. But it was the first time that he’d realized that it wasn’t hero worship that kept him so fixated on the screen. He didn’t tell Cas these things… only explaining the cultural significance of the movie. 

Their discussion of replicants as a plot device as well as a metaphor easily bridged over to a comparison of the alternate reality from which Eileen had come. The two spoke animatedly about the other-world clones of Bobby, Mary, and others that had lived and died on Dean’s version of planet earth. 

“It is yet another intriguing curl in the metaphysics,” agreed Cas thoughtfully. He opened his mouth again, as if to continue that thought, but then the lights dimmed. 

“It’s starting,” said Dean. “They’ll show previews first and then start the show.” Looking around, Dean saw that the theater had filled up quite a bit while they’d been talking. He settled back into his chair and felt his friend do the same in the seat next to him. It was easy to get lost in the movie, to forget himself and his troubles and be swept up in the story. Coming back to himself when it was over was almost disappointing. Castiel seemed to have been equally enthralled and as they walked back to the Impala, he told Dean how glad he was to have come. “I have always enjoyed television,” he said, “but I never realized how different the experience would be simply by watching on a larger screen.”

“Well,” replied Dean, pulling his keys from his pocket, “it’s not just the bigger picture. It’s the sound system too, and being in complete dark.”

“Yes, you were right when you assumed that I would enjoy it. Wasn’t it strange, though, that the couple in front of us were kissing for so much of the movie?”

“I didn’t notice them,” he answered honestly.

“I did. Every time the young man tipped his head, it distracted me. It didn’t hinder my viewing, but the movement caught my attention.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, man, some people come to watch the movie but most teenagers just come to make out.”

“It’s strange,” sighed Cas as they slid into the car. “It’s strange that someone would choose to spend the money for a ticket and then not watch the movie.”

“Not when you’re on a date,” answered Dean as he backed out of the parking space and drove away, his mind flicking back to his own thoughts as he’d entered the theater. 

“I understand that going to the movies together is a courtship ritual in American society Dean, I simply didn’t realize that the mating ritual began during the movie itself. The television that I’ve seen seemed to indicate those type of activities are generally reserved for afterwards… in the car.”

Dean chuckled knowing that Cas had likely seen teenagers on TV, making out in parked cars. Then, because he’s only human, an image passed through his mind’s eye of him and Cas sitting in the Impala and looking out over some scenic overlook… leaning closer and closer together as they tried to work up the nerve to touch their lips together. No longer above some shameless flirting with his angel, Dean looked over and teasingly said, “Were you wondering if I was gonna try and take you parkin’ after the show?”

Castiel turned to him in the soft glow of the dashboard lights and said, “Parking?”

Laughing Dean replied, “Yeah, man, like you saw on TV. Parking the car just to make out. Didja wonder if I’d make a pass at ya after the movie like this was a date?”

Cas’s face remained neutral, a look of practiced patience that the angel often wore when he found Dean to be unreasonable. With no change to his expression, Cas turned his face forward. With their eye contact broken, Dean also returned his gaze to the road ahead of them. This lonely blacktop connected Smith Center and Lebanon and as he drove it, Dean could feel the mood in the car changing. It was easy to see that Castiel’s good mood had faded. His body language was closed now, where a moment ago it had been relaxed and open. 

“What?” Dean prodded, wondering what was wrong. “Did I piss you off or somethin’?”

“I’m not ‘pissed off’ Dean,” replied Cas tersely. “And, no, I hadn’t thought about our outing as a date until you made a joke of the concept. But I suppose I should find that predictable from you.”

Dean sat there silently, feeling chastised as Cas continued by saying, “At first I assumed that the punchline of your joke was the absurdity of a courting ritual between a human and an angel. But then again, you copulated with Anna even after you knew what she was. Since you clearly take no issue with sex between angels and humans, the only deduction I can logically make is that to you, Dean Winchester, it isn’t the concept of human/angel mating that is humorously absurd, but rather the concept of two males having sex. I don’t understand why gender is so important. The fact that we have the same genitalia seems like a minute detail to me. So please explain, Dean, why the idea of us ‘parking’ is so funny to you?”

“I-I don’t know,” stammered Dean. His hands tightened on the wheel as he wondered how this train had veered so far off track in such a short time. “I don’t think it’s absurd for two guys to... 

“Copulate.”

“Yeah, that. Listen, Cas, I’ve got zero issues with two guys bumpin’ uglies and that’s the goddam truth. I just -

“Nevermind,” spat Cas, turning to look out his window into the dark. 

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Dean tried to think of how to say what needed to be said. Seeing a small dirt access road into a cornfield, Dean slowed and pulled in. He needed to give Cas his full attention. Putting the car in park, but leaving it running, Dean said, “Cas,” but the angel wouldn’t look at him. Dean turned his own body then, pulling one knee up onto the bench seat and reaching out to rest his palm on Cas’s shoulder. 

To the back of Castiel’s head, Dean said, “M’sorry. I don’t know why it was so funny to me. But if there’s anything absurd about the two of us makin’ out, it’s not that we’re both dudes. It’s, well, I guess it’s mostly the idea that you might be interested in, well, me. Like that.”

In the long pause that followed, Castiel slowly turned back to face Dean. When those soulful eyes locked on his, Dean felt his heart skip a beat. “I mean,” he huffed nervously, “you know me better than anyone. You’ve seen too much. You’ve watched me fuck up over and over… you even saw me in hell… what I did… what I was… you’ve seen me turn into a demon… black eyes and soul to match. You know the worst of me…”

“And still I love you,” Castiel replied solemnly. “You know this. I understand that you don’t feel the same for me, but to have to listen to you making a joke about it -

Dean felt his jaw drop open. He gaped at his angel incredulously. “You love me?” 

“Of course I do,” said Cas imploringly, “I’ve told you so, Dean, more than once.”

“W-Well,” he sputtered, “I didn’t know you meant  _ that way _ .”

Castiel set beseeching eyes on him and said, “I love you in  _ every _ way.”

“Oh man,” whispered Dean, wondering if he was about to wake from the cruelest dream he’d ever had. Already leaning forward to take advantage of the moment, real or not, he whispered, “I’ve wasted so much time.”

Hearing his words, Cas did that adorable head tilt again, as if he’d somehow not understood the meaning that lingered behind Dean’s words. Unable to contain his joy, restrain his smile, or control his body, Dean lunged forward and made the most incongruous attempt at a kiss that anyone had ever made. 

His free hand shot out and curled into Cas’s trench coat to pull him closer while the hand which had been resting on the angel’s shoulder shot up to clasp his face. Dean’s exuberance brought their mouths together roughly rather than sweetly and he missed the mark as he awkwardly scrambled forward and pressed himself into his angel. 

Both of them exhaled on giddy laughter as they awkwardly re-arranged their mouths into some semblance of an actual kiss. Then, Dean sighed satisfaction between locked lips as he felt his angel’s arms encircle him. This was happening. It was real. His heart was jackhammering inside its rib cage and his brain was circling the same thought over and over as their kissing deepened and their arms tightened around one another. I’m not waking up. This is happening. Holy shit. This is real.


	9. You Don't Know Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say to Destiella? She's been amazing on this fic, but for this chapter especially, she went above and beyond. I'm so grateful!

 

It was cool outside. The sky was wide and cloudless and full of stars and beneath it Dean’s Impala was parked on a small dirt lane just off the county blacktop.

Baby’s headlights shone out into an empty field illuminating uniform rows of harvested corn, withered stalks broken, brown, and brittle.

Having scrambled to keep up with Castiel as his mood soured, Dean had pulled in gracelessly and not bothered to turn off the engine or extinguish the lights as he’d turned to face Cas and apologize for joking about something that was, apparently, not funny to the angel.

Then, having told Cas he was sorry, Dean had been stunned by his angel’s declaration of love and his own body’s shameless reaction to it… unabashedly clamoring over to the passenger side, all knees and elbows and awkward fumbling, as he was welcomed into Cas’s arms.

The windows had been quick to fog over, which suited Dean just fine, and as the two of them wrangled themselves into an agreeable position, Dean’s hands had found their way inside Castiel’s trench coat - a place they’d always wanted to be.

With one hand wound around Cas’s tie and the other flat on the angel’s chest, Dean had let himself sink down into kissing and lost track of how long they’d been at it. He hadn’t played tonsil hockey like this since he was thirteen.

Castiel was an amazing kisser. Dean could do this all night if it weren’t for his middle-aged muscles screaming in discomfort.

In an effort to relieve the stiffness in his legs, Dean begrudgingly broke away from Cas and worked to un-wedge his knee. At some point, without consulting his brain, Dean’s body had decided to climb up into Castiel’s lap and straddle the angel, sending his knees into the seat with all his weight behind them.

Coming up for air, Dean panted out, “Sorry man, m’not fifteen anymore,” as he hefted himself up and rearranged his legs. His chest was cold now that it wasn’t pressed against Cas anymore and only now did Dean realize how wet his face was from kissing and necking. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Dean sat back on the seat, side by side with Castiel again. This time, though, his hand was curled around Castiel’s and, as his breathing slowed down, Dean tipped his head over to rest on the angel’s shoulder.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” asked Cas.

“Nothin’,” smiled Dean, “I used to love gettin’ it on in my baby. But I think those days are over. I’d rather head back to the bunker, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course,” agreed Cas. As Dean was sliding back over to his own side of the car, Cas turned to him and asked, “Will we listen to records again? I enjoyed that.”

“Me too,” smiled Dean, leaning back to peck his angel’s cheek warmly before putting the Impala in reverse and backing out onto the highway again. The car was silent as they drove home, and a new kind of feeling settled over Dean. It was uncanny, this feeling, and he continued to ponder it as he pulled into the bunker’s garage and walked with Cas down the long hall. As they passed the library, Dean made a split second decision… he’d do it now, quick and painless, like ripping off a band-aid. Grabbing Cas by the hand and pulling him along, Dean stepped into the room where his mother and brother, along with Claire and Eileen were still working. “We’re back,” he said to the group.

Around the table, heads lifted from ancient texts and scribbled notes. Dean grinned as he saw his brother do a double take, Sam’s jaw dropping open as he took in the linked hands of Dean and his angel. Mary noticed too, as she was meant to, and Dean purposely didn’t look at her or anyone else.

“The movie was awesome,” he added, “in case any of you were wondering.” Then, proud of himself for getting the hard part over with, Dean turned from them and headed back into the hall, tugging Castiel along with him. The angel followed silently, but when Dean glanced back at him, he saw the faintest hint of a smile hiding at the corner of Cas’s mouth. He licked his lips as the urge to kiss his angel came over him, a habit so long in the making it was practically a tick now. Then, he stopped in his tracks, right there in the hall, to follow the thought with an action - thrilled that he finally could.

Cas hummed contentedly as their mouths found each other again and Dean found himself smiling again as they pulled apart and headed for Dean’s room. Once inside, Cas pulled off his trench and laid it on the chair, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. Dean found himself stunned at how, for once, the angel didn’t linger awkwardly near the door. Unlike before, Castiel seemed to know his place now. He stepped up to the bed and made himself comfortable, watching Dean as he shucked his own jacket off and dropped it on the chair.

With Cas watching him, Dean walked to the record player and set up their favorite song. He skipped the headphones this time, letting music fill the room as he slid onto the bed. With unprecedented ease, Dean Winchester rolled onto his side and faced Cas to smile warmly at his friend as they settled into a comfortable position, his bent knee coming to rest between Cas’s and both their arms folded between them.

This was how it was going to be for them from now on - he could tell. There would be no more uncertainty or practiced distance between them, though there would likely still be staring.

It didn’t escape Dean’s attention that Castiel had opted for music over sex. But, he found that he didn’t mind much. All along he’d known that Cas might not be inclined towards him sexually and Dean was surprisingly comfortable with that. He’d certainly prefer a sexual relationship but intimacy would be enough, he was sure of it.

When the song was over, Dean opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized that they’d drifted closed. Cas was staring at him intently. “Dean?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“If you fall asleep as you did last time, should I stay here or return to my room?”

“Whatever you want,” he answered as the next song began to play. “But I hope you stay here. I like having you in my room.”

“I like being here,” answered Cas.

“Then maybe this should just be your room too. What’cha think, Cas, wanna just call this _our_ room?”

“Yes,” said Cas reverently. “You won’t mind?”

“I want you here,” Dean said firmly. “Besides,” he added teasingly, “who else is gonna police my hand-washing habits? That’s a full time job you know.”

They both huffed a laugh and Dean said, “Look buddy, I know you might not be into the sex stuff and I just want you to know that we don’t have to go there. I mean, I’m a human and you’re an angel. There’s probably rules about that stuff anyway. I’ll just keep my dirty stuff restricted to the shower… I mean, that’s how I always took care of business when I was roomin’ with Sammy on the road all those years. S’not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” replied Castiel solemnly. “Sex is a very big deal. It is important to most humans, and to you especially, Dean Winchester.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed honestly, “but you’re more important to me.”

Cas pushed forward then and kissed him, hard, his body shoving itself on top of Dean and spreading over him. “You’ll not be going without sex, Dean,” growled Cas. “I was human once,” he reminded his friend, “and I learned a few things. Those lessons aren’t wasted on me now.”

Surprised and a bit overwhelmed with the dominating way that Cas was pressing into him, Dean managed to croak out a protest. “I don’t want you to _have_ to, Cas. I don’t want you doin’ somethin’ you don’t wanna do just to make me happy.”

“Does this,” questioned Cas from above, “feel like something I don’t want to do?” As he spoke the words, Castiel rolled his hips pointedly and Dean could feel the hardness between Castiel’s legs. As it was pressed into him, Dean’s own body lit up with desire. His groin flooded with heat and his mouth went dry.

“I asked you a question, Dean,” smiled Cas wickedly. “Do you feel what I want?”

“Oh I feel it,” grinned Dean, spreading his legs and rocking up into Cas’s weight. “I feel it,” he said again.

“Me not wanting you was never an issue,” reassured Castiel as he dropped his face to Dean’s neck.

“For me either,” admitted Dean as he set his hands to work removing Cas’s shirt. “I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, Cas. Too long.”

“You have me now,” whispered Cas, his eyes locking on Dean’s in the soft lamplight. “Now and forever.”

“Me too,” Dean replied softly, looking unabashedly into the cerulean eyes that had haunted his dreams for so many years. Neither one of them bothered turning off the lamp and, in the amber glow, Castiel looked incredible. His eyes were bright and focused, his chest was heaving and his hands were frenzied as they stripped Dean out of his clothes.

Dean’s own hands were shaky, not scared or excited but some strange combination of both. He fumbled a few times as he battled with the zipper on Castiel’s pants, but once it was down, Dean didn’t hesitate to reach into the soft, dark cotton. For so long he’d wondered what Cas’s equipment might look like, how it might taste, what the weight of it would feel like in his palm.

Now, with Cas perched on top of him, Dean looked up at his friend’s face as he cradled Castiel’s package in his palm for the very first time. It was thick and heavy, clear liquid leaking from its tip already, and between his own legs, Dean felt his own dick swell in appreciation.

“Cas,” he whispered, “I wanna…

“I know you do,” smiled Castiel, leaning forward to kiss Dean’s mouth sweetly before dismounting him in favor of sliding up alongside.

Without missing a beat, Dean turned and slid down the bed to put his mouth on Castiel. He opened wide over his angel and plunged down, wetting the shaft from tip to base enthusiastically. His lips were sloppy with spit as Dean sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed.

Cas’s hands were combing through his hair and ghosting over his shoulders as Dean worked to bring pleasure to his angel. In return, he was gifted words of encouragement and praise and Dean’s joy in the moment was so great that he found himself smiling, again, as he ran his tongue up and down. He licked around the base too, inhaling the scent of Castiel and his untamed bush even as his free hand was trying to shove his own jeans down.

Another set of hands was soon assisting him and when his cock bobbed free in the air, Dean swore out loud for how good it felt to finally be released.

Dropping his hips, Dean plastered himself against the side of Castiel’s body, rocking his hips so that his stiff shaft was rubbing along the angel’s hairy leg, leaving snail trails of wet slick behind. “Yes,” he tried to say, but the sound was lost on the huge dick that was rolling over his tongue, keeping his jaw locked open. He felt Cas arch his back off the mattress and in response, Dean locked his mouth open and shoved himself down as far as he could, shivering with sinful desire as he began to gag on all that Cas was giving him.

“Oh Dean,” moaned Cas, his fingers clutching behind Dean’s neck and pulling him forward for more than he could handle. When he could take no more, Dean pulled back and gagged again, his dick swelling even as he did. “Fuck,” he cursed.

Before he could blink, Cas was rolling him onto his back. Without a thought to the pain, Dean spread his legs and begged for Cas to fuck him. “I need it,” he croaked, voice hoarse from the throat fucking he’d just taken.

“I need it too,” sighed Cas, settling his weight over Dean’s body once more. “But I fear that my minimal experiences in this area are going to limit what I can do for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” whispered Dean, knowing that Cas had only ever been with a woman. Well, a reaper disguised as a woman anyway. And perhaps Daphne, though he’d never worked up the nerve to ask Cas about that. “It’s pretty much the same drill,” he told Cas, “just put it in.”

“I fear I will hurt you,” replied Cas, putting his hand between Dean’s legs. A shudder passed over Dean as Cas tickled his fingers over Dean’s puckered hole. Dean was beyond caring, he just wanted it to happen. “I know it’s gonna hurt,” he said firmly, “and I don't give a fuck. I just want you.”

“Dean,” whispered Cas. When he opened his eyes, Dean saw Cas suck his own thumb into his mouth. He watched as Cas sucked it for a moment and then pulled it out, wet and glistening. Anticipation washed over him as he watched Cas, knowing where that thumb was going to go.  

“Oh yeah,” sighed the hunter as he felt that thumb circle his opening and tease the puckered flesh. “Yeah, Cas, like that.”

“Perhaps,” added Castiel, “you have something to help ease the way?”

“In the drawer,” Dean answered, pointing to his bedside table.

Cas leaned away for a moment, digging through the drawer until he found what he needed. “This will help,” he said as he turned the little bottle over in his hands and figured out how to open it. When cool, slick fingers wiggled their way inside him, one at a time, Dean called out to his new lover. He called out again when those fingers began pushing in and pulling back out, establishing a rhythm. Cas was fucking him with fingers like he’d soon be doing with his cock. “C'mon,” begged Dean, wrapping his hand around his own dick and starting to stroke. “C'mon, man, I need more. More,” he panted. When Cas thrust in again, he speared Dean wider, more fingers invading him, the long middle one curling up instinctively to milk pleasure.

The entire lower half of Dean’s body was humming, a buzz of warmth radiating from his groin. “You know more than you’ve let on,” grinned Dean as he rocked his hips.

“I may have watched some porn,” chuckled Castiel.

“Besides the pizza man?”

“Yes, but you told me not to talk about it, remember?”

“Oh,” smiled Dean. “Well, we can talk about it now. I mean, you and me. In private.”

“I will save my questions for another time,” whispered Cas as he leaned in on Dean to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m going to enter you now.”

It was so hard not to laugh out loud hearing those words. But, regardless of the shortcomings in Castiel’s dirty talk, Dean found himself nodding along. He adjusted his position, lifting his spread legs and bringing his hands to rest on his knees and hold himself open. He’d never bent himself into this position before, and it was strange to him. But before he had time to doubt or feel foolish, Cas was there, claiming his rightful place.

Dean jerked involuntarily when the bulbous tip of a cock bumped against his hole and began to push inside. He held his breath for an excruciating moment when his virgin hole resisted, the pressure of Cas’s weight building at his entrance and rising to a crescendo before the crown finally burst through his opening and began to slide in.

Cas pushed himself into Dean inch by inch and the slow drag of it was maddening. The intrusion didn’t feel like seven inches of hard cock  it felt every bit as wide and as hard as a baseball bat. He was panting desperately as he felt himself stretched to his capacity and beyond it. By the time his partner was fully seated, Dean was tense.

“I need a sec,” he whispered, pushing his palm against Castiel's chest.

Cas waited, his body locked and not moving. Wanting to continue but overwhelmed, Dean tried looping his legs around Castiel and crossing his ankles behind the man’s back. Holding tightly, Dean willed his body to adjust. It was slow in coming. Also breathing heavily, Cas bent forward carefully and brought their lips together. Dean opened his mouth immediately, sliding his tongue in alongside Cas’s. For a moment, Dean wondered if the angel could taste his own spend in Dean’s mouth.

“Yes,” whispered Cas, pulling back only an inch, “I can.”

“You’re reading my mind,” complained Dean softly.

“I’ve always tried,” answered Cas, “but now I can because you’ve stopped resisting it. You’re letting me in.”

Dean chuckled darkly and, referring to being penetrated, he said, “Literally.”

“Are you ready?” asked Castiel.

“Yeah,” he answered without speaking, letting Cas hear the word in his head. With that, Castiel began to move inside him. He was slow and so very careful, pulling back just a little before sinking in again, a filthy moan escaping the angel’s pursed lips.

“Cas,” groaned Dean, feeling the length of his lover hot and deep inside him, “this is where you belong.”

With that said, he lost himself in the moment. Soon he had to grasp Castiel’s forearms and brace himself on the bed, anchoring his body in place as the gentle rolls of their hips built up to powerful thrusts. Dean rode them out, feeling a slow burn set in as the lube began to dissipate. Seeking relief from it, he adjusted his hips and was about to ask Cas to stop and add more when something connected deep inside of him and sent new shivers of delight skittering up his spine. Seeking more of that feeling, Dean turned his attention to his hips, angling them to find that perfect alignment which seemed to ignite a slow burning flame deep inside him. The enticing new pleasure quickly overshadowed his discomfort and it slipped from his mind completely.

“Fuck,” he cursed, bucking up into Cas, still seeking more. He cursed again as they moved together, Dean’s own cock painfully engorged between them as they grew frantic.

In desperation, Dean fumbled his hand between their bodies and took himself in hand. He’d been leaking so heavily from the tip that stroking was easy. Closing in on his climax, Dean began jacking himself heavily, riding high on euphoria and racing toward his end. Between labored breaths, Dean called out, “M’gonna… Cas, I’m gonna… I’m gonna...

And that was it. Dean scrunched his eyes shut and locked his body as his stomach curled along with his toes. He felt Castiel still humping into him wildly but Dean was done. Nothing but Jello. He laid there letting ecstasy wash over him in waves, unmoving and only dimly aware of the movements as Cas’s body rocked on his, thrusts growing sporadic as the angel neared his own end. By the time Cas had climaxed, Dean was coming down. He heard his own name called out, garbled and desperate, and in response, he tightened his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and let his angel hear the words in his head, the words he’d almost never uttered, even to his own brother. Somehow it was easier to say without moving his lips. “I love you,” he thought in his mind.

Castiel’s head was resting on Dean’s chest and he whispered, “I know.”

 

Waking with Cas wasn’t as strange as it should have been. He joked lamely as they showered about being ‘pretty sore at the back door’ and then he grinned as Cas distracted him with a soapy hand job followed by lazy kisses. After, the two headed to the kitchen for breakfast as if it were any other day, the single difference being how Dean felt deep inside.

With the exception of a few knowing glances and thinly veiled innuendo-driven digs, things were normal. Mary was clearly not on board with their relationship, but she kept her mouth shut and for that Dean was grateful. He accepted the cold shoulder she gave him easily - he’d been distancing himself from her anyway, and he continued to watch her as he went about his days in the bunker.

Cas moved into Dean’s room, his underwear tucked into the top drawer of the dresser next to Dean’s and his trench thrown over the back of the chair when he wasn’t wearing it. Dean’s typical four hours of sleep began stretching longer now that he was sharing his bed with someone, and if his angel had no sex drive, then Cas was giving an Oscar-worthy performance as he feigned interest.

Most of their days were spent immersed in research, but as the day of Eileen's departure grew nearer, the group began helping her lay down some concrete plans. And, with each passing day, they all watched helplessly as Jack’s power and influence grew. His congregations were popping up all over, making news and garnering headlines. Even locally, there were billboards along the side of the highway that advertised the Paradise Church and its leader, Jack Kline. The slogan, an obvious attempt to spark curiosity and draw new parishioners, read simply, “You don’t know Jack.” Under that, in smaller letters, was an invitation to get to know him by visiting a local church.

Despite all that, Mary was insistent that Jack was a low priority compared to Eileen’s world and its apocalypse. She seemed to think of nothing but that distant war and asserted that any and all available hunters should join them, pass through the portal into bizarro world, and help save that dying planet. Dean, completely distrusting of everything she said anymore, argued with her relentlessly. Sam played referee to the best of his ability, but Dean made it clear that he expected his brother’s loyalty. Sadly, Mary seemed to be working the same angle.

Eileen often consoled Sam as the tensions in the group rose, and as Dean watched her with his brother, he could see that the two of them had grown closer than he’d thought. Up until now, he’d thought of Sam as a puppy, following the scent of beloved playmate. He’d had no idea that Eileen might actually be starting to respond to the younger Winchester. But she had, and watching her vehemently defend and support his brother, Dean had to tip his hat to her. She was every bit as spunky as the other version of her had been. And she was starting to smile at his brother in the exact same way.

Each night, as he lingered on the edge of sleep, Dean would find himself thinking about Mary to the point of frustration. Cas would soothe him or distract him or comfort him, but nothing could completely ease his mind about his mother. There were dots to be connected, but for some reason, he couldn’t make order from the chaos.

It was on the morning that they were set to depart when the pieces finally came together. Sam was talking about purgatory and Cas said something about Leviathans. And then: CLICK.

Understanding washed over Dean like water. Immediately, Dean dropped the book he was holding.

“Hey mom,” he said in an offhanded tone, “There’s a book you should check out before we go. I can’t believe I forgot about it. Got a sec?”

She looked up at him, setting aside the box she was digging through. The fact that he hadn’t spoken directly to her in days seemed to be immediately forgotten. She nodded and walked around the table. As she did, Dean headed for the door, expecting her to follow him out. Which she did. When he ushered her into the shallow storeroom and slid the gates open to reveal the dungeon, she seemed to grow wary.

“A dungeon?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab the book,” he told her, pretending to busy himself with searching the shelves, “but the weapon you’ll need for this is in the cabinet on the far wall.”

She followed his pointing finger with her eyes and visibly debated stepping into the dungeon, which was swathed in deep shadows.

Dean didn’t let his eyes follow her, forcing himself to continue moving items around on the shelf as though looking for a particular bin. Just then, Sam stepped in.

“What are you looking for he asked?”

Struggling to come up with an answer, Dean felt his face grow red. Mary was still hesitating at the threshold and Dean, knowing he’d been made, abandoned all pretenses. He covered the distance between himself and his mother in three quick strides and used his weight to his advantage, shoving Mary Winchester into the dungeon with brute force. She stumbled in, caught off guard by the action and struggled to keep her feet under her.

“Dean!” shouted Sam, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What needs to be done,” he replied angrily, sliding the gates shut and locking his mother inside.

“Dean, seriously, what the fuck?”

From within the dungeon, Mary called out to them, her voice shaky. “Boys? What is this? What’s going on?”

“You’re not yourself,” Dean called back to her through the gates. He couldn’t actually see her face, thankfully, because the front of the cell was decorated in shelving units that were designed to hide the dungeon from view. But, through the spaces between shelves and bins, he could see the movement as she began to pace back and forth at the entrance like a caged animal. “You haven’t been yourself for a while now,” he added.

Then, he looked at his brother and said, “Sammy, you’ve had me on lock down before. We locked up Adam for his own good once too… hell, you spent some days in the panic room at Bobby’s and so did I. The fact is, sometimes people have to be locked up. For their own good. Even family.”

Sam nodded understanding and didn’t move to release Mary. Instead, he relaxed his posture and said, “Tell me what I need to know.”

“I got one word for ya,” replied Dean, “Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah, man. Jack. He spreads his will by touch. Makes people his puppets. It worked like a charm on Cas and he’s a friggin’ angel of the Lord.”

“You think Jack is controlling Mom?”

“Damn right he is,” confirmed Dean, “She fuckin’ delivered him Sammy. The next time we saw her, she was goin’ after Lucifer and trying’ to punch him through the portal. Now, here we are about to go through that same portal and she’s spent the last few days anglin’ to try and take every hunter we know along for the ride?”

“I thought they could help, that’s all,” Mary pleaded from her cage. “The other hunters can help -

“Don’t listen to her Sammy,” urged Dean, “She ain’t been herself since Jack was born and you know it. She’s workin’ an angle for Jack, and I’d bet my last fifth of whiskey on what it is.”

“What?” asked Sam, “What’s the angle?”

“Get rid of us,” he answered. “Get rid of you and me and Cas and the few hunters this country has left after the goddam British invasion. Lock us all away in bizarro world while Jack builds paradise here - completely unopposed.”

Sam paused for a moment and Dean watched his brother think it through. “He’s just building churches,” said Sam softly.

From inside the dungeon, Mary agreed ardently and begged for release.

“He’s just building churches,” Dean repeated flatly. “And Dick Roman was just building research centers. He was gonna cure us all, remember?”

Sam stood there for a moment thinking and Dean could see that his brother was starting to see his point. “C’mon,” he said to Sam, “Let’s get goin’. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

The two of them turned to leave, Dean pausing at the light switch.

“You’re really going to leave me down here?” called his mother from her prison.

“Bet your ass,” replied Dean.

“But I’m your mother,” she pleaded.  
“I just love how you say that,” replied Dean sourly, turning his back on Sam and walking towards Mary. Looking past the shelving and the cage, Dean fixed his eyes on Mary. “You say the word ‘mother’ like it should mean something to us. But how can it? Huh? How can it mean something to me ‘n Sam when it clearly means so little to you?”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. Dean went on by saying, “Playin’ the mom card won’t work on me ‘cause you’re not ‘mom’ to me anymore.

“Dean,” she ventured, “I know you’ve had a rough life -

“Zip it _Mary_. I’m not interested in hearing what you have to say. You can tell yourself all day long that you only ever wanted a normal life… like you’re some kind of victim in this whole thing. But that’s just not true. You hate that you love being a hunter. But you do. I know because I’m the same damned way. And now, here we are. Two peas in a fucking pod. The only reason we want that apple-pie life is ‘cause we can’t fuckin’ have it. But we’re kidding ourselves about wanting any other life than this one.

“So, here we are. Like mother, like son. And I think I’m finally ready to admit that I don’t need a mother. I wanted one, sure, but I don’t need one. And, I think you’re finally figuring out that you never really wanted to be a mom. So, from now on, I’ll just be Dean and you’ll just be Mary. We’re just two hunters who live life the way we want to and neither of us will let the other hold them back.

You see, you’re not my family.” Having said that, Dean turned to Sam and dropped his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Me and Sam, we’re family. We’ve stuck together thru everything. And Cas, he’s family too,” added Dean. “He cares more about me and Sam than you ever did and he’s there when we need him... not itching to get out the door the second he’s got an excuse. So, when it’s Christmas and I want to be around my family, I’ll be with Sam and Cas. And when I need help with a Wendigo or a vamp nest, I’ll call you… Mary.”

Dean’s harsh words had silenced Mary and Sam both. No one spoke. No one moved. When Dean turned to exit, he finally broke the tension, clapping his brother on the arm and saying, “C’mon Sammy, we gotta get movin’.”

“Dean,” called Mary from her cell. He stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn to face her. Neither did Sam. “I understand how you feel,” she said softly. “I have that coming. I’ve been a lousy mother and you can’t possibly know how sorry I am. But at the end of the day, we’re family. You’re my son and I’m your mother. Please, don’t leave me down here.”

“Mary,” he said icily, “I know you’re my mother. That’s why I didn’t chain you.”

Sam cringed at the words, but remained silent. They left the lights on for her when they exited. Despite his guilt, Dean found himself feeling better with Mary caged. It felt good to be back in control again… to follow his instincts and take action. Mary was dangerous to them. He wasn’t even sure how, but he felt it down deep in his gut and he knew that locking her away had been the right thing to do.

They were loaded and on the road in less than an hour. Cas sat up front with Dean in companionable silence. In the backseat, Claire had her laptop perched on her knees. With her headphones on, likely listening to music, she studied it intently. Sam and Eileen sat in the back too, closer to one another than was strictly necessary. Sam’s expressions were unreadable from the rear view mirror. So, assuming that his brother was feeling conflicted about what they’d done to Mary, he mentioned it when they stopped for gas. Claire and Eileen had gone inside with Cas to use the facilities. So, while his brother was dutifully pumping gas, Dean said, “It’s no use tearin’ yourself up about mom. We did the right thing Sammy, we can’t trust her right now.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam easily.

Obviously Mary wasn’t what was bothering his brother so Dean tried again. “What is it? Me n Cas?”

“No, Dean, I’m happy for you guys. It’s just… maybe I’m not ready for her to go back yet. Maybe I don’t want her to go at all.”

“Eileen.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not her, Sam. I know you want it to be, but it’s not.”

“I know that Dean. I said that same thing to myself over and over when we first brought her to the bunker. But you know what?”

“What?”

“It is her. It really is. She’s exactly the same, and I don’t just mean the way she looks or the way she talks or whatever. I mean, she _thinks_ the same. She laughs at the same kind of jokes and has all the same fears. And, I know you’re gonna think I’m reading too much into this, but Dean, she _feels_ something for me. She tries to hide it but I can see it.”

“Just be sure that your mind is on the case where it belongs,” warned Dean, “This ain't exactly a milk run.”

Sam nodded reluctant agreement and moved back around the car to climb in. Dean followed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“How much alpha blood did you score from the Brits?”

“We have enough Dean.”

“I know. I was just wondering if you had more than we needed. Like, maybe enough to, I don’t know, have her visit sometime.”

“Whatever Dean,” his brother chuckled from the backseat. A few minutes later, with everyone back in the Impala, they were back on the road. Coming through Tulsa, Dean headed for Broken Arrow, the sprawling community on the southeast corner of the city. He pulled into the exact same motel they’d stayed at last time they were here, almost a month ago. As he passed under the decrepit sign for the Indianhead Motel, he let out a labored sigh. This was just the beginning, after all. They had a long road ahead of them and sadly, these were the nicest accommodations they’d have on this journey.

He booked a room and then everyone pitched in, carrying not only their gear but also their supplies inside. Then, they locked up Dean’s baby and took the time to sort out the provisions so that each person was carrying all that they’d need. With that done, Cas and Eileen began setting up for their spell to open the portal. Eileen frequently poked her head out the door into the night, checking the progress of the moon as it rose. When the time was deemed to be right, Dean watched intently as they poured blood, crushed bone, and crumbled herbs. “That’s everything,” announced Castiel. “Everyone join hands.”

Dean glanced at Claire and watched her thread her hand into Eileen’s. He felt a bit guilty for taking the young lady out of her own dimension without even consulting Jody or Donna. But, in reality, Claire was a hunter now. She had more cases under her belt than Dean had when he’d begun referring to himself as a hunter. Because he respected Jody as Claire’s mother figure, he’d penned a note for her and left it in the bunker. If something went wrong and they wound up not making it back, Jody would eventually find it and know what had become of Claire... that she’d gone off to save the world (not our world, granted, but a world nonetheless) and had not made it back.

Dean let his eyes wander over to Sam who stood a few feet away facing him. The man was looking at Eileen whose hand he held tightly. Her other hand was locked with Claire and as he returned his gaze to her, she looked up at him while she took hold of his hand. To Dean’s left, something caught his eye - the glint of lamplight reflecting off a blade that Cas was clutching. As their party looked on, Cas held out his wrist and drew the length of it over his flesh. Blood spilled out and ran down into a basin that had been centered on the table. Already the bowl contained the other ingredients and around it, runes drawn in blood were interspersed with candles.

Setting down his blade, Cas then took Dean’s hand and began to chant while his own blood still continued to flow. At the conclusion of the spell, Cas said, “Don’t let go of one another.” He then tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The lights flickered and went out. A moment later, a soft warm glow swelled and when Dean looked around, he saw what he now knew to be a portal. It was sinuous, slowly twisting in on itself, glowing in soft yellows and oranges. Cas went first, pulling Dean along by the hand. Dean in turn pulled Claire and so it went as they stepped up and entered the portal.

In the blink of an eye, they had traded a dimly lit motel room for the barren wasteland that Dean had taken to calling Thunderdome. A hot breeze was blowing and it peppered their faces with sand. Squinting to keep debris from his eyes, Dean let go of Cas and Claire to turn in a circle. The sky was inky and dark, which meant that he couldn’t see far. The same unsettling red lightning flickered like a strobe to illuminate their surroundings. Dean saw corpses in various stages of decay, obelisks with no discernible purpose, and sand dunes in every direction. Out of the dark loomed a figure, swathed in layers of ill fitting clothes. A scarf was wrapped around the face of the man, protecting him from the elements, and over his shoulder was a machine gun. It was Bobby. Eileen pulled away from Sam to embrace him and when they broke apart, Dean watched her bring the old man up to speed, Eileen talking fast with both her mouth and her hands while Bobby nodded along. A moment later, both turned towards Dean, Cas, and Claire, tipping their heads to indicate that they should follow. The group climbed up a steep incline, sand and dirt and loose gravel skidding out from under their feet making the way treacherous. Exertion was already taking hold of Dean when they reached the summit and he was glad to see that they didn’t have much farther to go. There was a jeep sitting not too far off, its driver waiting for them. Dean couldn’t even venture a guess if the driver was male or female under so much protective clothing, but he could see from a dozen paces that this person was heavily armed.

“Hop in,” barked Bobby when they reached the vehicle.

“Where we headed?” asked Dean.

“My place,” replied Bobby curtly.

They piled into the jeep and hung on tight. The ride was jarring at first but eventually smoothed out as they transitioned from a desert landscape to one that Dean likened to salt flats… a wide expanse of nothing that went on and on and on. The only break in the desolation was occasional clusters of obelisks like those they’d seen upon arrival.

Leaning forward to yell over the engine noise into the front seat, Dean asked, “What are those?”

Bobby turned to face him and said, “Transmission towers. It’s how the angels talk to each other and communicate with heaven.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” grumbled Dean. “Are you tellin’ me that those are antennae for angel radio?”

Bobby’s only response was to roll his eyes.

At the edge of the flats, rocky terrain loomed up out of the darkness and the vehicle began to climb. Once more the ride became rough, the passengers hanging on to fixtures as they were tossed about relentlessly. The sky began to lighten as they traversed and in the murky dim that seemed to pass for daylight in this realm, Dean began to see buildings in the distance. A city. Their jeep didn’t enter the city, but rather skirted around it, and even from a distance Dean could tell that it was a veritable graveyard. None of the structures retained any integrity, in fact, most were crumbling.

“Are there people still living there?” Dean asked.

Bobby nodded in the affirmative and said, “If you can call it living, then yeah.”

The city was soon out of sight and around them the lands had grown wild. There were trees, some living but most dead. Dried grass and rocks made up most of the ground cover, their jeep following a two lane path that wound through the remains of what was likely once a forest.

When Bobby had said “my place” Dean had assumed they were headed for his house at the scrapyard, or whatever was left of it. But, no. To his utter shock, when the jeep finally came to a halt, it was at the gates of Camp Chitaqua.

“Holy hell,” sighed Dean, the sense of deja vu too much to ignore. Cas looked over at him with a question in his eyes but Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back to ponder the ramifications as Bobby waited for the guard to okay their entry and open the gate.

Dean remained mostly silent as they rode through the camp which was eerily familiar. The jeep came to a stop in front of a medium sized cabin. Their guides leapt down from the jeep and headed inside, not turning to see if Dean and his company were even following. Once inside, they were ushered to a large table that sat empty in the center of the room. Taking seats around it, they were introduced to Bobby’s inner circle. There was only one person amongst them that Dean recognised at all - a man named Yeager who he’d seen shot when he’d visited this camp in another time and another dimension.

“Small world,” he mumbled, knowing no one else would understand. But it was crazy to realize that even with an incalculable number of dimensions and an infinite number of possibilities within each, that there were still the same places and people from one to the next. Over and over again.

“Alright,” said Bobby, taking a seat at the head of the table, “Eileen tells me that you folks have a plan. Let’s hear it.”

“We’re gonna lock the doors to heaven and hell,” answered Dean firmly, getting straight to the point. “And we’ll get rid of both Lucifers in the process.”

“And how do ya propose to do that?” challenged Bobby.

“Well,” replied Sam, leaning forward, “First we have to find Kevin Tran. He was a prophet in our world, and Eileen thinks he’s probably one in your world too.”

“And where do you suppose we’ll find this prophet?” Bobby asked.

“Princeton,” said Sam cautiously, “if it’s still there.”

“Well, it ain't what it used to be,” shrugged Bobby, “but it’s there.”

Sam looked over at Dean and then back to Bobby. “What did it used to be?”

“It used to be a high dollar school where rich fuckers went to have a stick firmly inserted up their ass,” chuckled Bobby.

“And now?”

“I guess it’s about the same. But now-a-days it’s less about insertion of an elitist stick and more about the insertion of a government stick. The place is still home to the best and the brightest if ya know what I mean, but no one walks out of there thinkin’ the world is their oyster.”

“Gotcha,” replied Dean sharply. “Lil dude is probably there. How long’s the trip?”

“Long fuckin’ way,” answered Bobby, “over hostile territory. It’ll take days; maybe a week.”

“Well, that’s our play,” said Dean. “Sam and Claire are gonna find our prophet while me ‘n Cas run an errand.”

“Wait,” barked Bobby roughly, “what are we gonna do with this prophet once we find him?”

“We need him,” replied Sam, “to translate a tablet.”

“Tablet?”

At this point, Eileen spoke up. Her face gave away her excitement as her hands signed, “The angel tablet, Bobby, it’s real. They’ve seen it.”

“No shit?”

“No shit,” she smiled.

“Do we know where it is?” he asked her.

“It’s buried,” she told him, “in an old crypt. It’s at the intersection of Downy and Bond street in Lincoln Springs, Missouri.”

Bobby looked impressed. “I’m goin’ with ya,” he told her. Eileen nodded her agreement and said, “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And where are you two numbnuts runnin’ off to?” demanded Bobby, turning his attention to Dean and Cas.

“Purgatory,” said Dean smugly. “It’s been a while and I’ve been meaning to take some vacation time.”


	10. Strings of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Destiella, who has put in enough editing hours over the past few months to call this a part time job. Thanks for doing it!

 

With the details hashed out and the supplies divvied up, everyone was ready to head out while it was still daylight. As Dean and Cas were packing the last of their things into the jeep that Bobby had lent them, they were introduced to a man named Jake who was to be their guide. The man didn’t say much, opting to simply heft himself into the driver’s seat and start up the vehicle. With a shrug, Dean hopped in the back and Cas followed. As they exited, they passed by the jeep that Sam, Eileen, and Claire were taking. There were several men assigned to go with them, and all were talking amongst themselves as they packed up their supplies. Dean stood up and braced himself on the roll bar as they drove past and called jokingly to his brother, “If I don’t make it back, fuckin’ look for me this time!”

Sam grinned and held his middle finger up as if it were a salute. It was the closest they’d get to saying ‘I love you’ as they parted. 

Bobby was right about the trip, it was long and hard. But Jake was good. He knew where the hotspots were and skirted them quite effectively.  They stayed off the beaten path, moving in a steady progression with few stops. With just a few glimpses of civilization, Dean quickly realized that a running vehicle was quite a luxury. Weapons, however, were a staple. Aside from a few pockets of weary refugees, every person they saw was heavily armed. As a rule they never camped near any sign of human activity and gave a wide berth to all metropolitan areas as they traveled until they reached the outskirts of New York City. 

Dean knew that once Sam had secured the angel tablet, he’d be headed in this general direction as well, though by a different route. He also knew that Eileen was far more important to Bobby than either he or Cas was, so it seemed safe to assume that his brother’s guides were at least as good, if not better than his and for that he was grateful. 

As they neared the city, Dean asked Jake what had happened to all the cabbies. He wanted to find Ajay, the rogue reaper who had ferried Sam’s soul to purgatory a few years ago. But, if he couldn’t, they had all the supplies they needed to summon one. 

“Cabbies are still workin’,” said Jake. “Getting around the city is dangerous. That means that providing safe passage is a big money maker. Any cabbie worth his salt is still workin’ and probably earnin’ more scratch than he did before everything went to shit.”

Dean described the area where he’d met Ajay before and Jake agreed to take them. However, he made a point of saying that he’d not be staying in the city to await their return indefinitely. It was just too dangerous. He’d give them until tomorrow night, and after that, he was heading back to camp with or without them. .

To Dean’s surprise, finding Ajay didn’t take long at all. Not everyone knew  _ what _ Ajay was, but anyone who was anyone knew his name and where to find him. 

This version of the coyote reaper was far more shrewd than the one Dean had encountered in his own dimension. He wasn’t interested in collecting an I.O.U. from a Winchester as payment,  especially since no one in this dimension even knew who he and his brother were. However, Dean wasn’t unprepared. When his first few offerings were laughed off, Dean pulled out his smoking gun. 

“Is that what I think it is?” asked the reaper.

“It sure is,” smirked Dean. “This is The Colt. There’s not much that this won’t kill. Where I come from, Crowley killed you. Ya might wanna keep somethin’ like this handy.”

“Crowley the crossroads demon? He’s nobody.”

“Crowley the King of Hell,” countered Dean.

“Maybe in your world, stranger, but not in mine,” said the cabbie dismissively. “Regardless, this is a fair trade. Are you ready to leave now?”

“Well, I was kinda hopin’ to see the Statue of Liberty while I was in town,” joked Dean, “but what the hell. Let’s go.”

As before, Ajay wouldn’t take them to the doorway that connected Purgatory and hell. He got them close, but still left quite a distance to be covered on foot. Much like Jake, their coyote was unwilling to wait long for their return.

“I’ll meet you in 24 hours,” he said, “right here.” Dean nodded agreement, trying to commit their surroundings to memory. 

Cas was still a Seraph, his grace a glowing beacon to the monsters of the realm. So, their travel wasn’t easy.  They fought well together, often back to back, working as a team to slay their enemies and pressing ever forward towards the magical doorway. 

When they finally reached it, Dean kept watch and defended Castiel’s back while the angel worked to pull the ingredients for the spell from their pack, prepare them, and then paint the sigil on the gate. This blood sigil was far more familiar to Dean than the one that Cas had used to open the portal into bizarro world. This one he’d seen several times - back when Cas had swallowed all the souls in Purgatory. Dean had never imagined that he’d have occasion to use that particular spell again, but here they were. 

Previously, the power of the eclipse had allowed the souls to be funneled into a vessel, namely Castiel. But this time, there was no eclipse. All they were doing was using the sigil to attract the monster souls and compel them to enter the place marked by it. In this case, hell. 

The moment Cas was finished with his work, he and Dean took their things and fled. Already they could hear the sound of predators responding to the call of the spellwork, drawn to the sigil.  

“It’s working,” huffed Cas as they ran, “Hell will be overrun.”

When planning for this, they’d considered going through the trials to seal the gates of hell permanently, but had ultimately decided it wasn’t necessary. 

As Death had once explained, God had known from the beginning that the Leviathans would pick the bones of any realm clean. That’s why he’d created Purgatory in the first place, to keep those chompers out of other dimensions. 

Based on the demon tablet translations that Kevin had done years ago, Sam and Dean had also been certain that only demons could travel back and forth between Earth and Hell. Leviathans couldn’t make the trip.  

The earthly plane of bizarro world was troubled with demons in staggering numbers. But, as the chompers ate through hell, there would be far fewer demons to bother the humans. And, over time, demons that were presently on Earth would have reasons to return to hell, completely unaware of what waited for them there. Demons, they figured, would be extinct in no time. And, if Sam and Eileen were successful, the gates of heaven would soon be sealed off permanently as well. 

“It’s gonna work,” huffed Dean as they ran, “By the time we head back to our own friggin planet, this one will be back in the hands of the humans. No angels, no demons.”

“Which way?” asked Cas as they ran.

“Up there,” pointed Dean. “Past that huge rock. We’re almost there.”

Most of the monsters they encountered were rushing right past them towards the hellgate, its magic calling to them relentlessly. There were a few, however, that seemed to feel less urgency and thus slowed to engage Dean and Cas. A human and an angel in Purgatory together was likely an unusual and enticing sight. As they fought their way through the stragglers, Dean’s mind hitched on to the idea of Benny being here somewhere. Once the thought crossed his mind, he could almost hear his friend’s familiar whistle echoing through the air. 

“Are you alright Dean?” asked Cas.

“Yeah buddy,” he replied, giving his angel a reassuring shoulder clap. “Just thinkin’ I guess.”

“It is unpleasant being back here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah man, it is.  But it’s not  _ all _ bad.”

Cas grinned at him. “Of course you find it agreeable. There is an unlimited supply of monsters here and you enjoy the unrestrained killing.”

Dean chuckled. “I think you’ve hit the nail on the head, Cas. Plus, things are easier here. There’s no bullshit, Cas, things just are what they are.”

They slowed to a walk when the creek was in sight. Coming to its edge, Cas knelt down near the water and stared at it as it rushed past his boots. Dean stayed clear of the water and focused his attention on watching Castiel’s back. One of the worst things about Purgatory had been the water. It looked cool, clear, and inviting. However, it was foul. Absolutely undrinkable. Being near it drew a person’s attention to their thirst, but offered no ability to quench it. Likewise, it called to the skin an awareness of filth but offered no properties that could clean it. Bathe all day in that water, you’d be no cleaner. Cas had often watched the water morosely when they’d been here before, and now he was doing it again. 

Dean paced nearby for quite some time before calling out to Castiel. “C’mon Cas, ya may as well come sit with me. Starin’ at it ain’t gonna make it drinkable.”

Cas rose to his feet and walked over, looking a bit lost.

“Hey,” barked Dean, “you doin’ okay?”

“Yes Dean,” he replied, “but twenty-four hours is a long time. I’m unhappy to be back here.”

“Well, it’ll be dark soon,” he reasoned, “We’ll sleep and it’ll go fast.”

“You expect to be able to sleep here Dean?”

“Well yeah,” he smirked, “it ain’t like before… no monsters left.”

“We can’t know that for sure,” countered Cas, “So it would seem prudent to stay awake until we’re retrieved.”

“Okay buddy,” conceded Dean, “but at least come sit with me.”

“Of course, Dean,” said the angel softly. The two of them settled down onto the ground, back to back, each leaning on the other. It was a good way to keep watch but still relax a little. Cas was right, it would be foolish to sleep. Instead, they talked. 

The last of the light faded as they spoke, leaving Dean and his angel to sit in unnatural darkness that seemed to press down on them with a physical weight. Mostly they talked to keep their minds off of how uneasy they both felt. 

Cas told Dean about his early days stationed on Earth, long before men had thought of making even the crudest of tools or cave drawings. He spoke of the battles he’d fought back when Anna had still commanded his garrison, and he told of the old ways back before the Morningstar, Bearer of Light, had fallen to become Lucifer. Back before God became Chuck. 

Dean talked too. He told Cas about growing up in the hunting life, smiling to himself as he spoke of his first sawed off shotgun, his first kill, and the first time he’d hunted on his own. One story bled into another as Dean recounted for his lover the joys of being a big brother, the angst of his teen years, and the various incarnations of love and joy he’d experienced in his life. 

At one point, Dean heard the sound of footfalls and fell silent. “You hear that?” he whispered to Cas. Cas didn’t answer aloud, but he nodded yes, something Dean could feel. Taking a hint from Castiel, Dean stayed silent after that. A while later, he heard breathing nearby and a sense of dread spread over him, soaking into his bones as he held his own breath to listen. Just when he’d convinced himself that he’d imagined it, there was a snuffling sound from his left. Something was nosing through the underbrush between them and the creek. Dean held his blade tightly in hand and waited, but no further sound reached his ears and eventually he relaxed again. He and Cas stayed quiet after that. It was a very long night.

As daylight began to seep into the overcast sky, Dean thought he heard Benny’s whistle. But it was just his imagination playing tricks on him again. That whistle had done many things back when they’d last been in this place. It had woken him from sleep, warned him of approaching danger, and signaled his friend’s position as the two orbited around one another when fighting. Benny and Cas had never warmed to one another, but their allegiance to Dean had bound them and eventually they had been better for it because once they were operating as a team, they were able to do things that had been impossible before… like rest.

The relentless agony of being weary without the respite of sleep had been the curse of the land they’d roamed. And it had seemed to wear on Cas most heavily, probably because he’d never needed rest or sleep as an angel. But here, in the land of monsters and waking nightmares, he had needed it every bit as much as anyone else and it was new to him. The first night that Cas had trusted Benny to take watch, they’d sat down under a tree together. To lay down would have been an overindulgence - a forfeit of their reaction time should Benny need to rouse them. But, on that first night, the angel Castiel had allowed his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder as he partook in a fitful sleep. That night, as he’d shifted in and out of consciousness, Dean had turned his head several times so that he could inhale the scent of his angel’s hair. He’d never even imagined how much he would enjoy doing that until it had been done. In the years that had followed, Dean had often remembered this place fondly, especially when his perception of friends and allies grew blurry. He’d yearned for the simplicity of this place. And perhaps for this… for something he’d never imagined being able to do on Earth… rest with his friend, enjoy their closeness, and smell his hair. Even under the thick funk of purgatory’s filth, there had been an angelic scent that appealed to Dean at his most base level. As he inhaled it, he always felt the urge to move closer, to embrace. It was on that very first breath of Castiel’s scent that something new in Dean had awakened: a deeply embedded desire to be closer. Not to stare at it simply in wonder or confusion or frustration, but to actually want to touch it. Hold it. Keep it. 

As he sat here trying to rest in Purgatory’s familiar landscape, hindsight was 20/20. Back to back with his angel turned lover, Dean realized that there was something else special about this place besides its simplicity and unfettered killing. This, it would seem, was the place where he’d first realized that he loved Cas. This was where he’d first recognized that he wasn’t just captivated by this angel's presence, or curious about it, or any of the other explanations that his logical mind had concocted to explain his strange reactions to Castiel. With time and perspective, everything was clearer now. His interest in the angel Castiel had begun at their very first meeting, it was undeniable. But it had been here in Purgatory, amidst the foulest landscape he’d ever traveled, that Dean had come to realize that he was in love with an angel.

“You awake?” he asked Cas.

“Yes, Dean.”

“I need to stretch my legs.” 

“Alright.” 

The two of them got to their feet. Dean rolled his neck and shoulders, stretched his arms and legs, rubbed his hands together. 

“It’s been a long time since I heard anything,” Dean said cautiously. 

“Yes,” agreed Castiel, “It would seem that the exodus of monsters from Purgatory is nearly complete.”

Neither the arrival of daylight nor the lack of fanged, clawed souls kept Purgatory from feeling every bit as eerie and unsettling as it always had. But, in the unchanging grey light of day, Dean did manage to sleep a little, dozing under a tree while his angel kept watch. When Ajay returned for them, Dean hated giving up The Colt as payment for their trip. But he did it. 

“Feels good to do this,” he told Cas as they waited for Jake. “I honestly don’t know what Jack’s paradise is, but mine is this… what we’re doin’ here. This is my paradise.”

“What?”

“Just earth, ya know? No hell below us, above us only sky. Lennon was onto something.”

“Even if every last angel and demon are gone, this place won’t be paradise,” said Cas matter-of-factly. “Humans will ruin it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Human nature. Without a god to hold themselves accountable to, humans run wild. They become a scourge upon the world.”

“Well then,” chuckled Dean, maybe you should pop in from time to time… leave them a few updated commandments to follow, teach them a new hymn, ya know, put the fear of God in them.” 

“Are you suggesting I become the new god? Is that a joke? If so, it’s in poor taste given my history.”

“C’mon Cas, you meant well. The Leviathans changed you. But without them, things would’ve been different. You would’ve been different.”

“Do you think so?” asked Cas hopefully.

“I know so,” smiled Dean.  

The trip back to Bobby’s camp was long and grueling, and even there, the Thunderdome wasn’t much fun. There was hardly any good food. Mary hadn’t been kidding about the gruel. Bobby called it hash. Bobby was full of shit. 

Everyone at the camp had to work, and no special arrangements were made for Dean and Cas. The two were added to rotations on watch, pacing the perimeter fences in pairs with other residents. Demons were different in this realm and it was a pain in the ass to learn the basics of fighting each kind, but it was necessary since those fuckers were constantly encroaching on Bobby’s group of survivors. 

Supply runs were another chore and they were happening almost daily, some for food, some for weapons, and some for medicines and other things that are taken for granted in Dean’s normal life.

Firewood had to be cut and hauled to each cabin and the doing of that took hours each day. Cas healed Dean’s blisters at the end of each day, and Dean protested it. He didn’t like using angel mojo for something so unnecessary. But Cas insisted.   

The only perk of life at Camp Chitaqua was one that Dean could no longer indulge in. Women. They outnumbered men here almost three to one. And they were horny. Most of the women sheltering at Chitaqua hadn’t had a decent fucking for years and it showed. 

The old Dean would’ve had a field day. The new Dean, the one who was in love with an angel, was a good boy; not even tempted. But the irony didn’t escape him.

Being here, he often thought about Zachariah’s version of Castiel... the one he’d met when he was thrown into the future to witness the Croatoan apocalypse. That version of Castiel had professed himself to be a guru of shared perception and had used that identity to stage epic orgies in the name of spirituality. He’d toked reefer and popped pills, washing down his debauchery with alcohol and a ‘live in the moment’ attitude which Dean had found both scary and strangely erotic. 

And now, walking past the cabin where Dean had seen that happen in some distorted version of his own world, the deja vu again presented itself. “Damn this is trippy,” he commented to Cas as they marched past it, pacing the perimeter fence as part of their patrol. Cas of course knew nothing about what Zachariah had shown Dean, other than to understand that it had been a manipulation. Dean had to wonder, though, if there was some small grain of reality to that indulgent version of Cas. 

Castiel having a ‘taste for sin’ was evidenced during their stay at Camp Chitaqua and the longer they remained, the more blatant it became. Dean and his angel found increasingly creative ways to manifest their ‘profound bond’ as they sank into their roles as lovers, and the fact that they were surrounded by sexually charged women with steam to blow off only added to their sexy games. 

The first time it happened, Dean had stolen off with Cas after dark, tiptoeing out back for a romp somewhere other than their musty, filthy mattress on the floor of a ramshackle cabin. They’d been at the back fence necking and eagerly shoving hands into each others pants when Dean had noticed a young lady lingering behind the woodpile, almost invisible in the shadows. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness as he simultaneously watched her and continued to fumble Castiel’s junk out into the moonlight. Dean soon realized that she had her hand down her pants. She was watching them surreptitiously. 

In a world with no resources to spare for something as trivial as porn, this poor woman was simply seizing an opportunity. He didn’t have the heart to interrupt her fun. In fact, he found himself wanting to give her more… some kind of consolation prize since the virile Dean Winchester was off the market and unable to assist with her dilemma. 

With that thought in mind, he’d abandoned the handjobs they were indulging in and engaged a theatrical side he’d never even known he had. 

With a smile on his face, Dean turned towards the fence and leaned into it, twining his fingers into the chain link and feeling a shiver of excitement as his jeans, still hanging open, began to slide down and reveal his ass. 

Castiel wasted no time moving in, shucking Dean’s pants down to his knees and peeling his cheeks apart so he could get to his knees and put his mouth on Dean’s quivering hole. Dean moaned for his audience as he was teased and then tongue fucked. Looking behind him, Dean saw a glimmer of mischief in his angel’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. At that moment, he knew that they were both on the same page. 

When Dean’s groaning turned to cursing, Cas rose up to his feet again and replaced his tongue with his wetted fingers. The angel then began jacking himself off as he worked. Dean took a hint from his angel and took himself in hand as well. With one hand still gripping the fence and the other stripping his cock, Dean bent forward even more, arching his back as Cas finger fucked him with two digits. He could practically hear the girl breathing, moaning, despite the distance that separated them. 

That was the first time they’d gotten off with an audience; but it wasn’t the last.

Cas, though he admitted nothing, seemed to enjoy these salacious games as much as Dean. There was no other reason Dean could think of why Cas would bother moving from shadow to sunlight before pulling him to the dirty ground in the sixty-nine position, or why the angel would turn Dean to face the ladies showers before stipping him down and dropping to his knees to suck him off.  

There was no lube in this realm, and if there was, they had no idea how to acquire it. But magic did happen one night when, on a whim, they’d snuck off to the kitchen after hours. At the time, it had simply been an attempt to ‘get it on’ somewhere new. But as he’d bent Dean over the counter, Cas had whispered some revelatory things about the uses of Olive oil in biblical times. With nothing to lose, Dean had given a nod when offered the chance to try it out. He wasn’t disappointed. They had taken that bottle with them when they left, and after that, both men gave it and took it…  all over camp… and often with an audience. 

Yeah, it was safe to say that Castiel, in the right environment, could easily be corrupted into a connoisseur of pleasure, both sexual and otherwise. These risqué encounters were the only form of entertainment here at Chitaqua and were thus frequent.

However, those kind of shenanigans came to an abrupt halt on the day that Sam’s jeep rolled back into the compound. Dean broke into a run to intercept them, thrilled to see his brother back in one piece and far more excited to see Kevin than he’d expected. 

The incoming vehicle was being swarmed by residents, most of whom seemed to be either celebrating Eileen’s return to camp or checking to see if she’d brought any supplies with her.

As Dean approached, Sam drew him into a into a quick but tight embrace. When they pulled apart, Sam pulled Dean to the side and said, “Kevin is dead here too. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“S’okay,” he replied. “I don’t know why I thought we’d be able to just go pick him up like that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam, “I knew it was a long shot, but it’s still disappointing.”

“I guess we’re on to plan B then,” shrugged Dean. “We can’t read the angel tablet without our prophet.”

“Oh we have a prophet,” corrected Sam, “but he’s far less agreeable than Kevin.”

“Wha-?”

“You must be Dean,” said a familiar voice. 

Turning to face the owner of that voice, Dean was stunned to see Donatello standing there. “Nice to meet you,” said their prophet. “Is someone going to get my bags?”

“Wha-?”

“My bags,” insisted Donatello, “they aren’t going to walk to my room on their own.”

Dean frowned at Sam as turned to pull the man’s suitcase from the rear of the vehicle and said, “The dude better be worth it.”

He was. Donatello was a righteous pain in the ass, but he deciphered the tablet far faster than Kevin had. Granted, poor Kevin had been hindered by broken tablets and constant interruptions by the brothers who constantly hounded him for spell after spell while working their various cases. With no distractions to speak of, and a wider knowledge base to draw from, Donatello’s work definitely made up for his elitist and narcissistic behaviors. 

“One dude,” huffed Dean as he carried a tray of specially prepared food from the mess hall to the prophets cabin. “There’s one dude on this god-forsaken planet that still expects room service and he happens to be the dude we need.”

“Relax, Dean,” soothed Sam, walking beside Dean with an armload of firewood.

“Relax? He’s chaffing my hide. He’s the only one with his own bathroom. And toilet paper. Sam, he’s got toilet paper!”

“You’ll have some soon,” reassured Sam. 

“Best case scenario, I have toilet paper on the next full moon. Dammit Sammy, he’s pissin’ me off!”

“It’s only been three weeks Dean. And from what I hear around camp, you and Cas had plenty of fun for the first two.”

Dean smirked proudly. “Ya heard about that, huh?”

“Yeah Dean, I heard,” his brother groaned. “Now, how ‘bout you go see Castiel? He’s off duty til supper. Maybe he can pull you out of this pissy mood.”

Dean left the prophet to his food and his stocked fireplace. He sought out Cas and did exactly as he’d been told. Funny how some good sex can take your mind off of just about anything.

But, in the middle of some pretty heavy foreplay, there was an urgent knocking on the door. 

“It’s Sam,” said Cas, extracting his swollen cock from Dean’s mouth. Reluctant to let it go, Dean watched it, shiny in the low light and swaying from side to side as Cas walked naked across the cabin. 

“What is it?” asked the angel, keeping his body behind the door as he opened it a crack to speak with Sam.

“Oh nothing,” said Sam mischievously, “I was just wondering if you guys wanted to go home?”

Less than an hour later, everyone was assembled. Once again, Dean was in familiar quarters. This meeting place, where they were about to orchestrate the opening of a back door into heaven, was the same little ‘war room’ where Dean had watched a jaded version of himself prepare to use the colt to kill Lucifer in the middle of a Croatoan apocalypse. In the years since that fever dream, Dean had never really been certain if his experience had been real or just an acid trip sponsored by Zachariah. Now, standing in this dirty cabin again, looking around at some familiar faces, Dean couldn’t deny the likelihood that what Zach had shown him had been a very real possible outcome. 

“Okay,” said Sam, addressing the entire group, “My brother and Cas have opened the gate from Purgatory to hell and let the Leviathans in. There’s no question… those things will eat everything. No demon or damned soul will be left in there. Since Leviathans can’t travel to and from the regions of hell like demons can, the only demons left to fight will be the ones that are currently here already. Without an entire realm of demons to fight, the tide of this war will turn very quickly for humans.”

“If we can gun down all the flyboys,” spat Bobby angrily. He then dipped his head towards Cas and said, “No offense intended.” 

“None taken,” replied Cas politely. Watching the exchange, Dean found himself fighting back a smile. Sam had said that Eileen’s doppleganger was still very much the real Eileen. Same girl. She just didn’t know Sam or share Eileen’s history and experiences. Now that he’d been around the alternate version of Bobby for a while, Dean understood. The man was so much like his own version of Bobby had been, that Dean had to work to keep his distance or risk growing attached. 

“Well, that’s where we’ve got some choices to make,” replied Sam. “Donatello has translated the angel tablet we stole from Lucifer’s crypt and found that, as we thought, there is a way to seal the gates of heaven. If we do that, angels would no longer be a threat to humans. They’d be sequestered in their own heavenly realm; unable to travel to Earth anymore.”

“Well hell,” grinned Bobby, “what’re we sittin’ around chattin’ for? Let’s get the damn gate sealed up.”

“It’s not so easy,” said Sam woefully. “This isn’t just some spell we can work. It’s a series of tests. Trials, so to speak, and when they've been completed, the door can be shut.”

“Are they the same as the ones you did, Sam?” asked Castiel.

“They’re similar in nature,” replied Sam.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense ya idjit,” grumbled Bobby, “give us the low-down.”

“The first trial,” said Donatello, “is to kill a hellhound in defense of a pure soul.”

Bobby let out a rough laugh and said, “Check. What’s the second.”

“Wait,” interrupted Dean, “you’ve killed a hellhound?”

“More than one,” answered Bobby with an eye roll. “But only once in defense of a pure soul.”

Dean watched Bobby’s eyes turn soft as he said, “That’s how Eileen and I met.”

Eileen’s face was just as warm as Bobby’s. Dean watched her begin to sign, as she spoke slowly and purposefully. “My mother was a hunter. She became one when I was just a baby… long before the apocalypse. She had lost my father to a banshee… the one whose screams took my hearing. After that, she hunted all over the world, bringing me with her and doing her best to protect me. But once angels and demons started roaming freely, protecting me was more than she could handle on her own. Through other hunters, she found out about Bobby and his camp. We came halfway around the world to find it, and by the time we arrived, we had a hound sniffing our trail.”

“Couldn’t see it,” added Bobby, “But when they stood at my gate, they were holdin’ it off with salt rounds.”

“We must have looked insane, firing at nothing,” chuckled Eileen, her hands coming to rest at her sides when she’d finished speaking.

“I knew somethin’ was after ya,” replied Bobby warmly. “The crazies don’t aim at nothin… they find some innocent SOB to take out.”

“Well, anyway,” smiled Eileen, “Bobby didn’t just open the gate for us. He let the beast follow us in and took it out.”

“Easy mark,” he laughed, “those critters might be invisible - but they still leave tracks. And besides, if it weren’t for you and your mama, we’d never have even known about the hounds until it was too late. But because of you, we doubled up on our fencing efforts and now the camp is more secure. So, you bringin’ one in here actually helped us all in the long run.”

“Bobby took us in,” explained Eileen, looking intently at Sam. Dean saw his brother sign something to Eileen, but since he’d not spoken aloud as he did it, Dean had no idea what had been said. All he knew was that it made her tuck her chin humbly and smile, a soft blush rising to her cheeks. 

Bobby’s voice was gruff as he spoke, but there was clearly tenderness in his words. “The minute the dust settled Eileen’s mama, Maura, had her in the library. At first I just thought she was trying to keep her safe… away from the hunts… but it didn’t take long to see realize that Eileen was wicked smart. She belongs in the library. Her brain is like a giant card catalog, always cross referencing things she’s read in different books. Plus, she can translate almost anything. I can’t even count of how many times she’s saved our asses.”

Eileen’s head was still bent under the weight of Bobby’s praise. From their first meeting at the portal, it had been strange to see Bobby using sign language, but now that he was getting used to this dimension, Dean had to admit that something about it seemed very natural.

The man looked directly at Dean when he said, “We didn’t win many battles before this Eileen showed up.”

Dean nodded understanding and in the beat of silence that followed, Sam somberly added, “There’s a spell that needs to be done. The same spell will have to be done after each task.”

Bobby’s response was immediate. “You got an ingredient list for the spell?”

Dean watched Sam nod and turn to Eileen, handing her a small piece of paper. She looked it over carefully and then laid the list down on the table. With her hands and her voice, she proudly told everyone in the room, “We have everything we need for this.”

Wasting no time, Bobby said, “Alright then, can we do it tonight?”

Eileen answered in the affirmative and immediately Bobby turned back to Sam. “What’s step two?”

Hesitantly, Sam looked around the room and said, “Remove an unrighteous soul from heaven and send it to hell.”

“Damn son,” laughed Bobby loudly, “I thought this was gonna be hard or somethin’. I’ve done that too…”

“How so?” Dean asked, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

“Eileens mother, Maura, was killed by a hunter,” said Bobby, keeping his eyes away from Eileen as he spoke about her past. “He’d been a good man once… but war… it changes people. And I don’t pretend to know how or why, but somehow he’d gotten it in his head that God had sent him on a holy mission. He had this ludicrous idea about me bein’ the antichrist and that to end the apocalypse he had to kill me. When he managed to get past our patrols, he took his shot at me. It was Maura who took the bullet for me. He took three of our best with him before we put him down. That bastard Gordon had the nerve to die quick and easy. A little too easy, for my taste anyway. I used a tracking spell to find his soul and paid off a rogue angel to bring him back down here for a little one-on-one time.”

Dean watched a sick kind of smile stretch across Bobby’s face as he said, “since we were a little busy with tryin’ to save the world at the time, I didn’t have the time to go all guantanamo on his ass. So, I sent him to hell with a demon named Crowley who guaranteed me that our pal Gordon would have a nice penthouse suite in the ‘bend-em-over-for-all-eternity’ section. I sleep better knowing Gordon’s in hell, don’t you Eileen?”

When Dean looked over at her, the blush was gone and so was her demure smile. Her eyes were stone cold now and she gave a firm nod of agreement regarding Gordon.

“That… that really seems like it should fit the bill,” said Sam. “But let’s do that tracking spell again and make sure his soul’s still in hell before we bookend the second trial with a spell.”

“We’ll need a few things for the tracking spell,” sighed Bobby. 

“Good,” said Dean with a laugh, “this whole thing was starting to sound a little too ‘been there, done that’ for my taste.” Then, looking over at his brother, Dean said, “What’s the third trial?”

“Kill an unrighteous angel and consume it’s grace.”

“Well,” sighed Bobby, “sounds like a milk run. I mean, every hunter in this camp has taken an angel or two. Are we sure that this is gonna work?”

“It’ll work,” assured Donatello, “according to the tablet, it will work.”

“Then let’s get some sleep,” said Bobby firmly, “Looks like tomorrow, we go angel-hunting.”

On Bobby’s order, the group disbanded. Dean left with Cas, casting a stern look over his shoulder at Sam. His brother looked away quickly, his facial features heavy with guilt. He and Cas headed to their designated cabin. The two undressed in the dark, not even bothering to light a lantern. 

They laid on their lumpy, uncomfortable mattress in silence and Dean assumed that Cas knew something was troubling him. Thankfully, the angel didn’t press him to discuss it. Dean was allowed silence to think things through, the comfort of Cas’s arm resting on his shoulder in solidarity. As he often did, Cas closed his eyes as he laid next to Dean. He’d been sleeping a little back on earth, though rarely more than a few hours at a time, but here in bizarro world the angel slept far more. 

When Castiel began to snore softly, Dean’s mind shifted into overdrive and he grew restless. The night was too quiet and his thoughts were too loud. Carefully shifting out from under Cas’s hand, Dean walked on silent bare feet to the door of their cabin and stepped outside to sit on the steps. The air was still and the sky, as usual, was murky. No stars, just a deep, dark-blue haze that seemed to swallow the normal sounds of night and leave the world in an unnatural vacuum of silence. Still pondering the trials and Bobby’s involvement in them, Dean pulled his boots on and headed out into the camp. He followed the path up to Bobby’s actual cabin for the very first time. 

Bobby greeted him gruffly when he knocked. “Whaddya want?”

“Alcohol. And don’t give me that bullshit about rations. I know you’ve got a stash.”

Bobby glanced around and then, seeing that Dean was alone, he begrudgingly stepped back and allowed him entry. 

No one spoke as Dean looked around the man’s cabin. Much like his earthly counterpart, this version of Bobby was a pack rat. Books and scrolls and boxes of relics were chaotically stacked on every flat surface. Warding was spray painted directly onto the walls, floor, and ceiling. The corner devoted to kitchen space was nothing but a modified hot plate on a counter and tub full of stagnant water with a few dirty dishes stacked nearby. A filthy rag was draped over the counter and had dried stiff. 

Stepping into the man’s space, Dean took a seat on one of two rotten chairs that looked like they’d been salvaged from a dumpster. There was no bed here, so clearly the man slept in one of them, likely the ratty recliner whose foot rest had been covered over in duct tape. Next to the chair, a sawed-off double barrel was resting within easy reach and Dean suspected that when Bobby slept, it was held in his lap between his two hands, always ready for the worst. 

“It’s better than a stick in the eye, but not by much,” said Bobby as he handed Dean a tin cup of dark liquid. 

He took the drink and watched as Bobby eased himself down into the adjacent recliner. “What am I drinkin’?” Dean asked.

“If you’re askin’, then you’re probably not in the right state of mind to keep it down,” the old man joked. 

Nodding understanding, Dean took a deep breath and held it as he put back an ambitious swallow of… gasoline? May as well have been. Not breathing should’ve kept him from tasting it, but it didn’t. The familiar feeling of his body soaking up alcohol swept up on Dean before the burning in his throat had even subsided. He tried to suppress his body’s desire to cough, but he couldn’t, and Bobby laughed at him openly as he tried to hold it back.  

“Shoulda thought to grab a couple bottles of decent stuff while I was on your side of the doorway. Live ‘n learn, right?”

“Sure,” huffed Dean, still trying to recover normal breath. As soon as he had, he didn’t waste it talking. He held it again and downed as much as he could stand. Once more he was overcome with a coughing fit, which he struggled through. The burning in his esophagus slowly ebbed out into the rest of his body, taking the form of tingles and a momentary tightening of his muscles. The two men sat there in the waning light, drinking what Dean imagined had been distilled in the repurposed gas tank of an old truck. Neither spoke for quite some time. 

By the time Bobby leaned over and filled their cups for the third time, Dean was buzzing hard. His body was sinking into the ratty chair and his eyelids were getting heavy. It was the most relaxed he’d been since arriving in this realm.

“Ya gonna pussyfoot around all night?” challenged Bobby, “or are ya gonna say what’cha came here to say?”

Dean took a deep breath and let it out. The words tumbled out with it. “Bobby, you’re gonna die.”

“We’re all gonna die, Dean. You wanna be more specific?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, kid. What do I need to know?”

“The trials,” Dean said softly, “they’re gonna finish you. That’s part of it all. It’s not just a series of tests, Bobby, it’s a sacrifice.”

Once the words were said, Dean could no longer look over at the man next to him. With nothing else to focus on and lids growing ever heavier, he simply gave up and let them slide closed. An indeterminable amount of time slipped past, neither man speaking, and when a sudden noise shattered their fragile peace, Dean’s eyes shot open in response.

“What was that?” he barked, jolting to his feet and pulling out his gun. 

Beside him, Bobby was slower to his feet but no less ready. Wordlessly the men arranged themselves back to back and began moving slowly, each to their left, continually scanning the room for any sign of danger. 

“Maybe it was just the wind,” remarked Dean, starting to wonder if he’d overreacted. 

“It’s never just the wind,” countered Bobby. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby’s hand signal and followed it, moving towards the front door. His drinking buddy shadowed him and the two moved on silent feet, opening the door slowly and easing out onto the porch. With no light from above, it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. Just when Dean was about to lower his weapon, his eye caught movement to his left. 

“There,” he said to Bobby, “over by the truck.”

“What didja see?” asked Dean’s companion as they navigated down the three steps and out into the yard.

“Nothin’. A glimpse. Just movement. Low to the ground.”

“Dammit, Winchester, my granny had better eyes than you.”

“Whatever,” grumbled Dean, “you’re ass would still be in the chair if it weren’t for me.”

They were side by side now, walking out into the darkness. They kept quiet as they approached the area where Dean had seen movement and both continually swiveled their weapons around behind them to avoid being vulnerable at their backs. When they were within a few paces of the old rusty truck that was up on blocks, Bobby used hand signals to tell Dean that he’d stay still and take aim while Dean went around the truck to flush out whatever was crouching behind it. Nodding his assent, Dean stalked into the darkness feeling grateful that he’d had some liquid courage. His heart was thudding loudly inside his ribcage and his breath was shallow as he rounded the front bumper. Keeping his knees bent and his firearm trained in front of him, he wished for a flashlight. Hell, even a lantern would be something. 

From across the yard, just a few feet from the neighboring cabin, Dean heard another noise. It was the distinct sound of a dry twig snapping. His eyes shot up and began searching the darkness in that general direction. In the back of his mind, Dean wondered who was on watch tonight as he looked past the vague silhouette of Bobby Singer, looking for any kind of movement. When it came, it came from far closer. Bobby. On the other side of the truck, he dropped from sight. The fleeting motion was accompanied by a whump sound and then the ear-splitting discharge of a shotgun. Dean was already moving. With his weapon still drawn, he broke into a low run, keeping low to the ground for stability as he rounded the front of the immobile truck again. Returning to the spot where he’d parted from Bobby’s side, Dean caught only a glimpse of the man as he was hauled underneath the truck. 

Dropping to one knee, Dean aimed his gun vaguely at the underside of the vehicle while clamping his fist into Bobby Singer’s thick flannel shirt. The man’s free hand grasped him in response and hung on as Dean set both knees to the ground, locked his frame, and pulled with all his might in an attempt to reclaim his friend. Right next to Dean’s ear, the double barrel fired again, Bobby still trying to kill whatever had hold of him. The ear splitting sound was an assault to his sensitive ear drums, but the resulting muzzle flash gave Dean’s hungry eyes one brief moment to see what he needed to see. He took in the sight of Bobby’s legs, twisted unnaturally in the grasp of huge hands that were tipped with claws. 

The impression of the scene echoed in Dean’s mind even after he was plunged back into darkness and he was able to additionally gleen that a horned head had been visible. Some kind of demon had grasped Bobby by the ankles and pulled him under the truck, and was still pulling. With only the strength of one arm, Dean was no match. He needed to either let go of Bobby to steady his weapon bearing hand for a possible kill shot, or he needed to abandon the gun and use both hands to pull Bobby out. Indecision at a time like this was a death sentence. 

This wasn’t his Bobby. Dean knew that in his mind. But for some reason, the logic of that didn’t reach his heart. Pulling Bobby back was more important than killing whatever had tried to take him. He dropped his gun and seized the old man with both fists. Gritting his teeth and using all the force he could muster, Dean wrenched Bobby loose from the demon’s grip. And for a fleeting moment, he thought he had him. 

But then, unexpected movement brought the world crumbling down. There was a lurch, identifiable only by the sound of crashing metal and the sudden abort of his progress with Bobby. The body would not move another inch, and as Dean continued to pull, the man cried out in pain. One long scream followed by a sharp intake of breath and more screaming. 

Only then did Dean realize what had happened. One of the blocks supporting the weight of the truck had been jostled. The vehicle had fallen and was now resting on Bobby’s legs. 

The gunfire had drawn attention though, and help was on its way. Dean called out as he heard hasty footsteps approaching. The sweep of flashlight beams accompanied the voices of reinforcements, as did the soft glow of lanterns. 

“Over here,” he called. “Over here, over here!”

By the time others approached, Dean was on two knees over Bobby and trying to assess him. The man was still screaming and cursing. Despite his empathy, Dean tuned it out in favor of trying to assess his injuries. When a wide circle of canned light came to rest on the leader of this camp, it showed him to be trapped under his own truck from the waist down. 

“Fuck,” muttered Dean. 

Several people had gathered around them now and Dean heard someone breathily say, “I’ll get Doc,” and take off running. Those who remained were all talking at once, some touting the merits of levers to try and lift the vehicle while others had already wondering if the demon, who was now smashed underneath it, was acting alone. 

Dean rose to his feet and though he had no place to boss anyone around in this camp, he started giving orders. 

“You,” he said to a tall man nearby, “take someone with you and go find Yeager. Find out who was on watch tonight. We need to see if they’re accounted for.” As the man turned away, presumably to do what he was told, Dean was already dishing out another order. “You,” he barked, looking at a vaguely familiar woman, “grab a few others and start going around from cabin to cabin. We need everybody up for a headcount. Get back to me with the count when you’re done, and be careful. No one should be walking around alone.” From the dark, a familiar face caught his eye. He didn’t remember the guy’s name, but he’d been part of Bobby’s inner circle. “You,” he said again, this time singling out the familiar man, “go find my brother and Eileen.” To an apprehensive young woman who lingered nearby with a lantern, Dean said, “Pair up with someone and go get Cas.”

“I-I don’t know who that is,” she stammered.

“The angel!” he shouted at her, “Go find the angel!”

As he handed out orders, Dean kept one hand clamped firmly on Bobby’s shoulder. The man was silent now, breathing shallow, and Dean hoped that he’d passed out. 

It felt like ages before Sam was at his side. Eileen knelt down at Bobby’s head and took his hand, but blessedly, he wasn’t conscious. 

“What do you think?” Dean asked, wanting his brother’s opinion about the use of leverage to lift the vehicle.

“I think we’re screwed,” sighed Sam, sinking to the ground.

“C’mon,” prompted Dean, “at least let Doc get a look at him before ya say that.”

“Not what I meant Dean.”

“What didja mean?”

“He’s the one doing the trials, Dean, he’s got two of three done. If we lose him, then we have to find someone else and start over. We only have a few days left before the full moon. That’s when the door opens and we go home. We’re running out of time.”

“Not my biggest concern right now,” barked Dean, turning to join Eileen at Bobby’s head. 

He’d tried, he really had. He’d tried not to like this version of Bobby… to think of him as a stranger… to not care. But it hadn’t worked. Despite all his avoidance and careful indifference, Dean’s heart was aching right now as he watched Bobby’s face turn ashen under the bluish glare of an LED flashlight.

As he worked to hold back the sob that threatened at the base of his throat, Dean felt himself lifted. Cas. Cas was behind him and pulling him to his feet. “I can move the truck,” said Cas, gripping Dean’s shoulder. His angel’s firm grasp was reassuring and Dean found himself feeling stronger. “Better wait for Doc to give us the go-ahead first,” said Dean. 

They waited only a few more minutes for the camp doctor to arrive but, sadly, at precisely the same moment, Yeager appeared. “I need you,” he said to Dean, “we’ve found the entry point.”

Dean looked to Cas who said, “I’ll stay here and assist the doctor.” 

Dean nodded appreciatively and turned to his brother. “You comin?” 

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said. Dean watched him squat down and sign to Eileen. She nodded and accepted a soft kiss from Sam before turning her attention back to Bobby who remained unconscious. 

“How’d that fucker get in?” growled Dean, checking his weapon before shoving it back into the back of his jeans. 

“There’s a tree branch hanging over the fence down here,” answered Yeager as they hiked down the perimeter in the dark, “It’s broken now and laying on our side of the fence. I’m guessin’ that tempter demon tried to use the branch as a way over and it just didn’t hold his weight. Right now, this seems like an opportunistic attempt at feeding. It just wanted blood and you guys happened to hear it sniffing around. I doubt it would’ve hidden under a truck unless it were alone.”

“So you don’t think it was after Bobby specifically?”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he replied, “but it’s probably best to err on the side of caution. We’ll have everybody double up in cabins tonight and take turns on watch. In the morning when there’s light, we’ll cover the grounds from end to end to be sure nothing’s hiding out here.”

“Sounds good,” agreed Dean as the two of them walked up to the downed branch. It was probably fifteen inches in diameter at its widest point which was now cradled in the rolled barbed wire at the top of the fence. Together they grasped it at shoulder height and heaved it up and off of the fence. It took a few tries, but eventually they dislodged it and the whole thing crashed to the ground inside their boundary with minimal damage to the top of the fence. 

“We’ll have to get some new wire up there,” noted Yeager. 

“Couldn’t hurt,” agreed Dean. Closer inspection of the huge branch showed that its integrity had been compromised, likely from disease, but a large portion of the wood near the breaking point was rotted away. As they headed back towards Bobby’s cabin, the sound of a gas powered generator starting up reached their ears and shortly after, the area in the center of camp was lit up under a huge spotlight. 

“Let’s head that way,” said Yeager. 

Open to further distraction, Dean agreed. When they reached the lighted area, Dean found that the hunters at Camp Chitaqua had been quick to organize. There was sufficient gas to run the bright lights for the rest of the night. The huge bulb provided illumination for the six closest cabins and everyone was dividing up between them. Each cabin would be crammed full, but one person could remain awake to watch the others as they slept in rotation. That’s how they’d insure there were no more casualties before dawn. At first light, the grounds would be combed and cleared.

When Dean saw Doc walk by, he stopped the man and said, “How’s he doin’?”

“He’s alive,” reassured the doc. “I’ve got him loaded up with enough hog tranquilizers to keep him down for the rest of the night. But sooner or later we’ll have to let him wake up.”

“And then?”

“And then he’s probably going to realize that he can’t use his legs.”

Dean’s stomach dropped like a stone. “No -

“I’m afraid so. I mean, it’s not like I can run a battery of conclusive tests. But, I’m on my way to the storage shed. There’s an old wheelchair in there and I’m pretty sure he’s going to need it.”

“You need a hand?” offered Dean.

“Not now,” the doc replied, “but if you’d be so kind as to stand between him and me when I tell him? That would be much appreciated.”

Dean had to chuckle at that. “I’ll be there,” he promised. 

“Be there, armed,” said the doc as he stepped away into the night. 

Dean turned to Yeager then and said, “Go with the doc, wouldja? Nobody should be walkin’ around alone.”

“You got it,” said the man, shaking Dean’s hand as they parted.

Looking around, Dean easily pinpointed the person in charge of cabin assignments. Mary Cambell. He hadn’t had to see much of her while he was here and for that he was grateful. But right now, she was holding a clipboard and barking orders. Claire was nearby, helping hand out supplies. Dean hadn’t seen much of her during his stay either because the moment she’d returned with Sam’s group, she’d foisted herself in amongst the hunters of Camp Chitaqua as if she were their newest recruit, soaking up everything they’d teach her. Dean headed over to Mary and asked, “Where didja put me ‘n Cas?”

“He’s in cabin seven,” she answered hastily, “and I’ve got you in number nine.”

“I’ll be in seven,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument as he walked away.

When he arrived at his destination, he found his angel leaning in the doorway. 

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“You takin’ the first watch?”

“Yes, I’ve already slept tonight.”

Sensing Castiel’s pending question, Dean leaned in and said, “Sorry I didn’t wake you when I left. At the time, it didn’t seem important but in hindsight, yeah, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Yeah. But it ain’t gonna be easy to see Bobby back in a wheelchair.”

“I tried to heal him, but I couldn’t.”

“But you lifted the truck?”

“Yes. And though I’m not at full power since my return, I had expected to be able to heal him.”

“A spinal cord injury probably takes a bit more juice than my blisters,” quipped Dean.

“The limitations are frustrating,” sighed Castiel.

“Life is frustrating.”

Not much else was said after that, but Dean lingered with his angel to watch over the hunters of Camp Chitaqua who were crammed into cabin number seven. Then, at first light, they all reported to the gate. Spreading out into a long line, they walked the grounds and left no stone unturned. Nothing was found. After their breakfast of gruel and questionable water, a handful of designated hunters undertook the task of burning one dead tempter demon while a few others went to make repairs to the fence. Dean and Cas went with Sam and Eileen to the doc’s cabin. There, they sat on the steps and waited for Bobby Singer to wake.

It was heartbreaking to watch, for a second time, as Castiel had to tell Bobby that despite being an angel, he wasn’t able to heal the man’s useless legs. The aged hunter took the news about as well in this dimension as his doppelganger had taken the news in Dean’s dimension. He was, however, still committed to the task at hand… the third trial. And now, thanks to Dean, he knew that it would kill him.

The following day, they did the spells for the first two trials and then, despite the doc’s protests, Bobby said it was time to go angel hunting. It was obviously difficult for the man to trade in his jeep for a van… but he did it. Begrudgingly. 

As they loaded up supplies, Bobby rolled up to Sam and Dean and said, “Okay, so takin’ down angels is kind of a hobby of mine. No troubles there. But once I nab one, how am I supposed to consume his grace?”

“Um… Sammy?” replied Dean, looking over at his brother.

Sam reached into his backpack and pulled out a small silver box. “You’ll use this,” said Sam quietly. “It’s an extraction needle. It was developed by the men of letters. Cas used it on me once. The diagram and instructions are inside the box.”

Castiel stepped up then, probably because he’d heard his name. Bobby looked between the three of them with his nose wrinkled up as though they were the three most annoying people he’d ever met. “You’re gonna make me read the directions as if I’m tryin’ to make a batch of grandma’s strudel?” he barked angrily. “Can’tcha just tell me where to stick the goddam needle?”

Dean bit his cheek to keep from laughing and tried to keep his face serious. He didn’t want to anger the man any further. Sam seemed to be thinking the same. Thankfully, Cas answered for them. 

“You can insert the needle just under the bolt of the jaw. You’ll be able to see it in the syringe - it glows blue. If you have trouble extracting there, you can try anywhere around the exterior of the esophagus. My grace was once extracted from that location.”

Bobby’s face appeared both irritated and curious at the same time, but he nodded understanding and turned away from them, dropping the box to his lap as he used his arms to propel his wheelchair over the uneven ground. 

Unable to stand by and watch his slow progress, Dean reached out to assist by pushing. 

“Touch my chair and I’ll kill ya,” growled the man. 

Dean put his hands up in surrender and watched Bobby roll haphazardly away from them with his brother on his left and his angel on his right. 

The day was a long one, riding in a stuffy van over rough terrain with a feisty hunter who’d just lost the use of his legs. The man’s wheels were locked, but the chair still wandered as the van jostled. The journey was taking a lot out of him, but he was loathe to let anyone help him. Dean caught Cas using his powers a few times to slide the chair back to its place in the center of the cargo area, but he made no mention of it. He knew his friend just wanted to help in any way he could, even if it was small and feeble. 

Under a murky, crimson sky the temperatures were high and the air inside the vehicle was stifling even with the windows down. Their guide sat up front with Eileen while the men all hunkered in the back with Bobby. Their destination was the nearest set of Angel radio towers which was just over a hundred miles away. On an interstate back in the real world that was less than two hours of travel time. In this wasteland, however, it was more like six. For the last thirty miles or so, the men played a game of “which angel would we kill if we had our choice.” Lucifer was the obvious choice, but Dean found that he harbored far more animosity towards Zachariah than he did towards the devil himself. 

“Given my condition,” said Bobby acerbically, “I’ll settle for killin’ stunt-angel-number-three and gettin outta there while we can.” 

Doing as Bobby had suggested was surprisingly easy. They arranged the van on a nearby dune to look as though it had broken down and been abandoned. Hiding nearby, Bobby kept his machine gun at the ready and loaded with angel killing bullets. A bit farther away, Dean and Sam kept their own weapons ready just in case Bobby needed backup. Castiel stayed mostly silent. When the first angel entered the area, it was uninterested in the van and never got within range. It simply waited around until another angel joined and then the two left together. The third angel to arrive did come to investigate the van, and as he did, Bobby plugged several slugs into him below the waist. 

“Aren’t you going to finish him off?” called Sam from a dozen feet away.

“Let him feel what it’s like to lose the use of his legs,” snarled Bobby. “Besides, the rules say I gotta kill him… not that I have to do it humanely.”

To Cas, Dean said, “how do we even know that this angel is sufficiently unrighteous for the spell?”

“Dean, he’s wearing the necklace. God appointed angels to protect the people he created. Do you think he’d appreciate the slaughtering of innocent newborns for decorative jewelry?”

“I suppose not.” 

“This version of the world is so far gone,” lamented Cas, “the trials are almost too easy here.”

“You make a solid point,” agreed Dean. Suddenly, he was more homesick than he’d ever been. He wanted to get out of this wasteland. His eyes were aching for blue skies, green grass, and the normalcy of a world where angel and demon sightings are so rare that many people don’t even believe in them. 

With the angel sufficiently immobilized, Bobby made his way over slowly. He accepted no assistance from anyone as he inelegantly dropped to the ground and overpowered the weakened creature and plunged the needle into its neck. Dean had to admire the man’s resolve. When the job was finished, the man was exhausted. He tried over and over to heft himself back into his beat up wheelchair. Dean didn’t want to diminish the man’s pride, but he couldn’t just stand by and watch him fail over and over either. So, he set pleading eyes on Cas who wound up using his grace to give Bobby’s body the little extra push it needed to flop back into the chair.

Tired and dirty, Bobby made it back to the van on his own and only then did he allow them to lift his chair into it. The ride back was made mostly under the cover of dark with everyone’s head bobbing as they slipped in and out of restless sleep. 

Back at camp, the group received a heroes’ welcome. They didn’t drink and party, though. They gathered their supplies and began the spell to complete the third trial. Bobby was looking pretty rough by then. Had he not witnessed Sam’s condition deteriorating as he’d gone through the trials back on Earth, he would have probably chalked up Bobby’s haggard appearance to his injuries. But, knowing what he did about this process, Dean understood that Bobby was already fading.  

Cas had once told Dean that fate was cruel and capricious. Dean had gone so far as to say “bitch.” And now, as he watched Bobby’s light go out, Dean knew it was true. 

In both worlds, Bobby had suffered. He’d fought hard and saved  many, and for all his efforts he’d known nothing but pain. The man had lost everything. First his wife and his home, then his legs, and eventually his life. It just didn’t seem fair. 

Were some people just doomed to misery by the cosmos? With all he’d seen, Dean was finally getting used to the idea that there were some pretty heavy threads holding things together… threads that were tethered to particular people and places. It was clear now that there were common denominators at play - fates that doomed certain bloodlines while others seemed perpetually blessed and lucky. Despite the variance from one dimension to another, fate was pulling strings that humans couldn’t see, with motivations that mere mortals couldn’t possibly understand. The enormity of it all was mind boggling and as he considered it, Dean found himself needing to numb himself from the fear and frustration of it all. But instead, he stayed silent and watched the spell being done. He stood side by side with Castiel and watched Bobby die. Again.

The entire Camp came together to pay their respects for Bobby. Mary Campbell seemed to be taking over his duties, walking around with a clipboard tucked under her arm. Someone had to do it, Dean knew that. But it was impossible to watch this strange version of his mother living a life without children. She didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body. She was quite an effective teacher, that much had been obvious. She had taught Eileen a lot. Claire too. But she had zero mothering skills. Perhaps this woman was more like his own mom than he’d cared to admit before. After all he’d seen, Dean could no longer pretend that the two women weren’t cut from the same cloth.

“Full moon tomorrow,” said Sam as he stepped up beside Dean.

“Bout time,” sighed Dean. “I need to get home. I need real whiskey. And pie.”

“Air conditioning.”

“Memory foam.”

“We did it, Dean.”

“What?”

“Saved the world.”

“We’ve done that before.”

“Not really. Not like this. Dean, we didn’t throw anything out of balance this time. We didn’t trade anything off to make it happen. We didn’t lock up one evil just to release another. No demon deals, no nothing. We did it clean this time.”

“We lost good people, Sam. We lost Bobby.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t Bobby,” said Sam softly, “but it was.”

Dean couldn’t look at his brother when that was said. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the pyre where Bobby’s body had been burning for hours and hours. 

“Dean, these people, they need help. With Bobby gone…

“They’ve got Mary. And Eileen. They’ll be okay.”

“Heaven and Hell are off the table,” said Sam calmly, “but there’s still a lot of angels and demons walking the earth. There’s so much rebuilding to do. I’m starting to wonder if I should stay here to help.”

Dean took a deep breath and tried not to shout at his brother. He barely managed. “If you wanna stay here,” he said through gritted teeth, “then at least be honest about it. Admit what you’re stayin’ for. I mean, I can’t believe you’re gonna lay this line on me about reconstruction efforts. You just wanna be with her.”

“Maybe I do,” Sam retorted, “but what difference does it really make Dean? I’m needed here way more than I’m needed back home. So, where’s the downside of me staying?”

“Me,” barked Dean, “I’m the downside. I need you man, and I’m supposed to, what, go home alone? You’re my brother! After all this time, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Sam was silent for a long time. The two stood watching the hunters of Bobby’s camp tell stories about him and celebrate his life as his body burned. “It was just a thought, Dean,” said Sam softly. He clapped his hand on Dean’s shoulder and turned to go. A little too late, Dean felt the impulse to tell his brother that he loved him. But, if Sam had decided against staying, he must already know. 

Sam had barely been gone a moment when Cas appeared. He stood next to Dean in silent contemplation. Suddenly aware of his weariness, Dean said, “You ready to get some shut eye?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Together they walked back to their shitty cabin. They washed up in a basin of questionable water and then tugged off their clothes to lay down on a rotting mattress. Then, with the last of their strength, they made love. 


	11. Life 2.0

 

Gruel. You can save the world, Dean thought to himself, and still, you eat gruel. Looking around the mess hall, Dean took in the tone of the camp’s residents and found it to be heavy but hopeful. Everyone was feeling the loss of Bobby Singer, who had been their leader for as far back as most could remember. But, in his absence, someone had to step up and it looked as though that ‘someone’ would be Mary Campbell.

Despite her face, which Dean still found jarring, and her obvious similarities to Mary Winchester, the two were completely different in every way that mattered to Dean. His own mother carried an aura of kindness and empathy that the apocalypse version of her was lacking. Additionally, his mother carried a sorrow that this woman didn’t. Yes, Mary Winchester had made mistakes, critical errors in judgement and action that haunted her even after death and resurrection. But she also understood and accepted the consequences for them. Though it had hurt him to watch his mother turn her back on him and leave, he’d be a liar if he tried to pretend that she hadn’t been hurting every bit as much as he had when she’d walked out the door.

His mother, it would seem, hadn’t been very in touch with herself when she’d been young. Much like Dean, she’d ached for a life outside of hunting, only to find that life unfulfilling upon attaining it. In the wake of his own lesson learned had been Lisa and Ben. In the wake of his mother’s had been him and Sammy. Had his mother lived beyond Sammy’s first six months, her life as John’s wife would have continually grown more difficult as she continued to hunt behind her husband’s back. And, eventually, that hunting life would have invaded the quiet suburban home she’d tried to cultivate for her family regardless of her efforts to keep the two seperate.

Just as he knew the earth was round, Dean now knew that he would have been raised in the hunting life no matter what. Either because of his mother’s death, or because of her life. Sooner or later, any separation between her children and the evil she hunted would have been lost. Dean knew that from experience as well. No matter how hard he’d tried to protect Ben and Lisa, there was no keeping evil from them. Merely by association with him, they’d been in grave danger from day one.

So, as he ate his disgusting gruel, Dean ruminated on all of this and finally came to accept that he was living exactly the life he was meant to live. He and Sammy becoming hunters wasn’t some grand accident or twist of fate. It was their destiny. It was in their blood. Both sides of his family, going back generations, were involved in the battle between good and evil, and following in their footsteps had been his predestined path all along. A certain sense of finality and closure came with that knowledge and now, for the first time in his life, Dean was actually content to be what he was. As much as Bobby was fated to suffer and die in the hunting life, the Winchesters were fated to suffer and live in it.

Besides, the hunting life wasn’t all bad. In his youth it had brought him action and adventure, freedom and the open road, women and whiskey, and a bond with his brother like few others in the world would ever have. Then, later in life, it had brought him an angel. The angel had been a constant presence for almost a decade now. Dean had at times been confused, frustrated, angry, hurt, and betrayed by the angel Castiel. He’d also been saved by him - over and over. He’d been redeemed, accepted, and supported by his angel. They shared a bond. Cas had become his everything as they’d navigated their mingled fates together and now that their ever evolving relationship had grown into a romantic one, it was impossible to think of Cas as anything other than a gift from God.

Dean smiled as he thought of Chuck. God and heaven and angels and even the end of days, had all turned out to be far different than what he would have pictured in his mind beforehand. But now he just accepted it all, even the things he still didn’t like or fully understand. After all he’d seen in his life, he felt very resigned. Given the nature of all things… how could the universe be anything other than what it was?  The world, in all its incarnations, was incredible. Even it’s harshest environments contained a raw kind of beauty that couldn’t be denied, and even the most evil of souls were capable of redemption. So, even on his worst day, Dean would still rather be here than anywhere else - even heaven. Flawed though it was, this place was his home.

As he scraped together the last smears of his sticky breakfast, Dean caught sight of Cas coming his way.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dropping his bent spoon back into the bowl, Dean felt himself smiling as he teasingly replied, “Hello, Cas.” His tone was dry, deadpan. For an instant, the flicker of a smile played at one corner of his angel’s mouth and his eyes shone warmly as he sank down across the table from Dean. He loved that his angel seemed to be understanding his humor these days, even appreciating it. And, as the two smiled warmly at each other, he found himself certain that his angel understood exactly how Dean was feeling in this moment, and felt the same. Content.

“Everything is ready for tonight,” said Cas.

“Good,” Dean replied, pushing his dish away to rest his elbows on the table. “Now all we gotta do is make sure Sammy’s on board this crazy train.”

With a simple tilt of his head, Cas showed his confusion. “He’s been talkin’ some crazy shit, Cas,” explained Dean. “He says he’s thinkin’ of stayin’ in this dump… wants to help rebuild or some shit.”

“Interesting.”

“No, it’s not interesting. It’s bullshit. He’s just following his dick like it’s a dowsing rod. He’s always been too interested in settling down for his own good. Never really bought into the solo life like I did. A couple years ago he started talkin’ about settling down with another hunter… someone who understands the life. Now it looks like he’s found one.”

“Eileen,” said Cas flatly.

“Yeah. And apparently he doesn’t give a shit what world he settles down in.”

“If Sam prefers to stay here with Eileen, then who are we to challenge his decision?”

“Dammit, Cas, I hate it when you do that.”

“What? Ask a question?”

“I hate it,” he sighed petulantly, “when you ask me questions that make me _think_.”

Tonight, when the full moon rose, he and Cas would be working the ritual which promised to return them to civilization. He’d walk through the portal with his angel and head straight for the nearest bacon cheeseburger. But would his brother be with him when he did?

Shoving that and all other uncertainties from his mind, Dean sought out Claire. With Cas by his side, he checked everywhere he normally would’ve found her with no luck. His last stop was the building where meetings were held. The only furniture inside was a large table with a half dozen mismatched chairs. Maps, gear, and a few weapons were stowed along the walls. 

When they entered, Dean saw the the camps leadership crowded around the table. Yeager was here, along with a few other high ranking members of the camp. Also present were Mary Campbell, Claire Novak, and Eileen Leahy. Everyone was deep in discussion about a coming raid and there appeared to be some conflict regarding the plan of attack.

Dean watched the back and forth for a moment. Mary was speaking to the group, but her eyes were on Yeager. She was fiercely determined as she spoke. “All I’m saying is, it’s too soon to sit back and celebrate a victory. Yes, the gates are shut. But all that really means is that the number of angels and demons is finite now. It doesn’t mean we can all relax and reopen Disney World. We need to be focused and we need to be prepared. Lives can still be lost. We must remain vigilant.”

“I never said any-fuckin-thing about Disney. Don’t patronize me. I’m just saying that as the number of enemies decreases, we can re-assign personnel and equipment to more important tasks. If we can decrease the number of scouts, we’ll have more people working. We’ll secure and haul more with each mission.”

If others had seen him and Cas enter, no one had acknowledged them or invited them to join. Dean cleared his throat and looked at Claire. All voices fell silent as they realized that he planned to speak. “I’m just getting a head count,” he said to her. “You comin' with us tonight or what?”

“Yeah,” she answered without hesitation, “definitely. I need pizza and a Mountain Dew like Yeager needs an M16.”

Dean couldn’t help but return the small smile she was working to suppress. “Good,” he said as he turned to leave. “See you at supper for one last bowl of slop.”

He hadn’t made eye contact with Eileen while inside and that had been intentional. He was afraid of what he’d see.

At this point, Eileen probably knew better than Dean what Sam Winchester would do when the sun went down tonight. If he’d met her gaze in the cabin, Dean figured he would’ve seen either resentment towards him for taking Sam away, or pity for him because she knew that Sam would be staying with her. Sadly, the one thing he knew with certainty was that Sam would do what he thought was right, regardless of how it affected Dean. His brother might feel bad, be broken up about it, but if he truly felt that his place was here, then this is where he would stay.

Honestly, looking over at Cas, Dean could kind of understand. Cas had done it for him, right? He’d given up all the comforts of heaven and living among his own kind, solely for the sake of being with Dean. Without a doubt, Dean knew he’d do the same. If staying by Cas’s side meant leaving everything behind, he’d do it in a heartbeat. No question. Regardless of where the angel Castiel was headed, he’d have Dean Winchester by his side. So, how could he deny his brother the same?

For the remainder of the afternoon, Dean and Cas patrolled the perimeter fence. The sky was tinged red, as usual, and as the sun sank to meet the horizon, the color deepened to crimson. When the next shift came to relieve them, Dean and Cas handed over their rifles and headed towards the mess hall for supper.

Upon arriving, Dean saw that Claire had indeed shown up to eat a farewell bowl of Camp Chitaqua gruel with him. Heading towards an empty table with his dish in hand, Dean seated himself across from Cas and waited for the young woman to join them.

When she perched next to Cas, Claire acknowledged Dean with a nod and then elbowed Castiel. Dean watched his angel look over to find the girl smiling at him with doe-eyed innocence. Cas returned her smile, holding eye contact with her. It was a beautiful thing. Claire wasn’t his daughter and he wasn’t her father. They’d never be that to each other. But, they were something. The two shared a connection, and a mutual respect, as well as a genuine desire to be there for one another. That much was clear as day. Lifting the spoon to his mouth, Dean managed one bite. That was all he could do. Yes, he was hungry. But soon enough there would be real food.

The three of them were still sitting there when Sam and Eileen entered, pushing around mushy hash and not eating. Dean tried to look either of them in the eye, get some idea of what was about to happen. But he couldn’t. Just couldn’t. After all, a few more minutes of hoping that Sam would come home with him was far more enticing than actually knowing the truth.

The first person to speak was Claire. As Dean frowned into the bowl in front of him, she said, “You’re not hungry?”

At that, Dean looked up, wondering who she was talking to. He found Claire looking in Eileen’s direction and in response to her question, he heard laughter from both her and Sam.

“You must be joking,” she answered, “In a few hours, there will be bacon.”

Dean’s head snapped in her direction and when he looked down the table, he found both her and Sammy smiling widely at him.

“Eileen’s going to try life on our side of the door for a while,” explained Sam, though Dean had already put two and two together.

“That’s um, that’s really great, Sammy,” he fumbled, not sure how to express all that he was feeling.

Chancing a glance at Cas, Dean let himself smile. He didn’t hold it back. He could feel an aura of utter joy humming around his little group and sharing it with his angel, his man, his partner, just made it all the more real.

“So, will you be staying at the bunker then?” asked Claire.

“I guess so,” Eileen answered, with her hands and her voice. “I think that’s the plan.”

“Yeah,” added Sam, “We’re going to work on setting up kind of a helpline for hunters. They can call with questions and we’ll research answers for them. We’re thinking we might even try to set up some kind of a library-type system so that hunters can check out and use the weapons and equipment stored in the bunker.”

“We were thinking,” added Eileen, “that the bunker could be more open. Hunters could shelter there between hunts, those with kids could leave them in our care while they go out on jobs. I could help with schooling them, training them. The bunker could be so much more useful than it is right now.”

“Yeah Dean, I meant to talk to you about this when we got back, but I figured you’d be all for it. I mean, I know you think of it as your home, but right now it’s really kind of wasted. We’ve got all those empty rooms, a huge industrial kitchen, and a library full of empty tables and books that only two or three people are reading. It’s a waste of resources. We could be doing so much more with what we’ve been given. As legacy members, it’s ours to do with as we choose. And I really think we should open it up to hunters… share our resources and offer a place where they can rest… a place for hunters to meet and share information that’s not a pool hall.”

“S’great Sammy,” nodded Dean as he tried to process all the changes that Sam was proposing. While his brother and Eileen continued to talk of their plans, Dean’s attention turned inward. In his mind, he tried to picture all of this coming to fruition and wondered how he’d feel about it. The more he considered it, the more he found himself feeling amenable.

He’d likely miss the privacy from time to time, but Sam and Eileen were right. They had a responsibility to do as much good as possible with what they’d been given. Thinking of their bunker brought Dean’s mind back to his mother. She was still there, sitting in the dungeon. Sure, Cas had taken some provisions down for her as they'd left, but that would do little to make up for the fact that Dean had left her in dungeon to rot for an entire month. Regardless of how questionable her loyalties had been at the time, he knew that she had a right to be pissed at him. Though he was very much looking forward to being home, he was not looking forward to sorting things out with her.

Around him, the conversation at their table had turned to playful banter. Laughter rose up around him but Dean hardly noticed it. He was pondering Mary and wondering about Jack’s influence on her. As he did so, Dean began to dread their return. He just wanted to eat some good food, enjoy a decent drink, and then take his man to their room and lock the door.

He wanted a nice long rest in a comfortable bed. Yeah, rest with periodic sex and food. For days. That’s what Dean wanted. Not to jump right into chaos again by addressing his mother’s strange connection to Jack and what it meant for them.

Also beginning to plague him were thoughts of Jack’s cultish church and the progress he’d likely made while the Winchester brothers had been gone. How many more followers would he have by the time the Winchesters returned to the bunker?

It wasn’t until the everyone else at the table rose that Dean realized the meal was over. Casting a glance at Cas, Dean could tell that the angel had been reading his mind as he ruminated on things. It was all over his face. When their group exited the building, Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. It was a gesture the two had long used to communicate solidarity and encouragement. Dean gave his angel a nod of appreciation as he soaked up the reassurance.

Heading out into the night, Dean looked up at the moon. It wasn’t cool and sallow as the white moon on his version of earth usually appeared to be. It was a light salmon-pink in color and the slight glow emanating from the distant orb was an odd coral color as it bled into the surrounding reddish-brown darkness of this realm.

“Ready to head home?” he asked his brother, turning his gaze from the alien sky.

“Oh yeah,” replied Sam as they began walking towards the courtyard at the center of camp.

“What about you?” Sam then asked Eileen, pulling her to his side. “You ready to start a new life?”

“I’m ready,” she said firmly. Then, looking over at Dean, she added, “There’s nothing left for me here anyway.”

Dean wondered what she meant for a moment, having thought until now that she’d been happy to see the gates sealed and hopeful for the future of her world. It only took moment of reflection to see how things really were for her.

Life for humans in this version of the universe would be improving now, but Eileen had lost much in the battle to make it so. Her mother was long gone, and her surrogate father, Bobby, had been taken from her as well. Clearly Mary was special to her, but Dean knew this version of his mother well enough to know that Eileen wasn’t special to her. Of course Eileen must know that too. To Mary Campbell, Eileen was, at best, a prized student or apprentice. Now that she’d spent some time on Dean’s version of earth, Eileen had gotten to know Mary Winchester. Compared to Mary Campbell, Dean’s mother was warm and compassionate. She may not be all that he’d imagined in her absence, but clearly being a mother had made a difference in her. She thought and acted quite different from the childless version of herself.

Eileen had grown attached to Mary as the two had spent time together in the bunker, and in hindsight Dean could see it. He simply hadn’t noticed it at the time because he’d been too focused on his own problems with his mother.

Now, as they approached the area set aside for their ritual, Dean saw that the bags they'd brought with them from home were piled on the ground, along with the necessary items for their spellwork. Mary and Yeager were waiting for them with lanterns in hand. Both offered thanks for their help and wished them well, Yeager coming in for a quick bro hug with the brothers and Cas. Mary went to Claire. Dean watched them, curious, and saw the childless version of his mother give Claire Novak a genuine hug as she told her to ‘stay fierce’.

Then, with the eerie moon above them and darkness encroaching on all sides, Dean watched Cas slice his arm for blood and let it drip into a brass bowl as Sam worked to light the herbs on fire and add them.

Castiel invoked the spell in perfect Enochian and a small spark ignited nearby. It hung for a moment, suspended in the unmoving night air, and then it hissed to life. The ember was soft orange, its light dancing like flames in slow motion as it grew in size.

The undulating cord of light twisted and turned on itself and Dean didn’t hesitate. He grasped Castiel’s hand and stepped forward, knowing that his brother would follow. As he neared the portal, a crackle of electricity tickled through his body and the strange sensation of being pulled forward by some unseen power curled his stomach. The feeling was reminiscent of the initial plunge of a roller coaster on its first hill. In the moment it took Dean to process the feeling and accept it, he was delivered to the other side.

The moment he was clear of the portal, still holding Cas’s hand, Dean turned his gaze upward and drank in the sight his eyes had been aching for… blue sky. It was dark, but it was blue. Overhead the moon hung silvery in the sky and partly overcast with wispy clouds. The air here wasn’t stagnant, but fresh and moving. A soft breeze caressed his skin and as he became oriented, the sound of nearby traffic reached his ears. Looking around now, he found that they’d emerged in a field. Not far off was a freeway, a long line of red brake lights snaking away into the night. With his eyes following the road, Dean saw the lights of a city on the horizon. 

“I sure hope that’s Tulsa,” he said to Cas. Then, he turned back towards the portal just in time to see it flare brightly as Claire came through. Even as she was walking towards them, the light blazed once more to announce the arrival of Sam and Eileen.

There was a brief moment of celebration when all were accounted for, hugs and back slapping amongst their group, before Sam looked towards the promise of civilization in the distance and said, “I sure hope that’s Tulsa.”

Hearing his brother repeat his previous statement, verbatim, Dean grinned at Cas. Then he addressed the group saying, “S’gonna be a long walk. We better get goin'.”

Walking away from the portal, Dean kept one eye on it to be sure nothing followed them through. It wasn’t until the doorway fizzled and went dark that he fully turned his attention to the uneven ground at his feet.

The first hour was the worst because they were crossing a corn field. The rows of chopped stalks forced them to lift their feet high with each step. It would have been far easier to simply walk between the rows, but that would have carried them in the wrong direction. There were huge rocks and chunks of dirt, tangles of dried weeds and stalks, all of it a tripping hazard. Despite the full moon, it was difficult to see so their progress was slow. With his ankles constantly twisting awkwardly in his boots, Dean worried that one of them would sprain an ankle out here in the middle of nowhere.

When they finally emerged from the field, they still had to cross a wide drainage ditch with steep sides and sharp rocks at the bottom. Slogging through the trash, mud, and standing water at the bottom was no fun either. When they finally climbed out, they were left with dirty knees and wet feet. But at least they’d made it to the road.

With cars and trucks roaring past them and not stopping to offer assistance, the group walked for at least a mile in their wet socks and shoes. Dean could feel blisters forming on his feet as he squicked along. When they finally approached a sign, Dean was initially relieved to see that they actually were approaching Tulsa. He was going to congratulate Cas on getting them so close, but then he thought of his poor feet. Suddenly the sign proclaiming them to be on the Muskogee Turnpike and twelve miles from Broken Arrow didn’t seem that close at all.

With a collective sigh, the group continued on.

The breeze that had seemed cool and refreshing upon their return now felt ice cold and it tore through Dean’s layers leaving him shivering. Having his feet wet didn’t help either and exhaustion soon set  in. It felt like they’d walked another mile or so on the gravelly shoulder when Eileen spoke up.

“I was led to believe that I’d be eating bacon by now.”

“Don’t say bacon,” growled Dean, turning to face her so she could read his lips.

“It could be worse,” joked Sam, “she could’ve said, ‘warm apple pie’.”

“I hate you so fucking much.”

Cas remained silent, walking dutifully next to Dean. With another mile under their belts, they finally got lucky. A pick-up truck slowed and pulled to the shoulder. Breaking into a run, Sam approached the passenger side window and spoke to someone as the rest of the group caught up.

Turning to them, Sam informed, “He says we can hop in the back.”

Relieved beyond measure, Dean climbed up over the tailgate and flopped down in the bed of the truck. By silent agreement, the protrusions of metal that formed the wheel wells of the truck were seats saved for the ladies. Eileen settled onto one and Claire took the other. Sam, Dean, and Cas all leaned back against the cab with their legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. It wasn't long at all before the lights and sounds of the city signaled their arrival and soon the garish sign for the Indianhead Motel loomed into view. Dean’s baby was still parked where they’d left it, and after thanking the kind stranger for the lift, they trudged past it as the group headed for their rooms. The clunk of the door as it accepted the keycard from Dean’s wallet was a very sweet sound. “Home sweet home,” he muttered as he pushed inside.

Once they entered, there was an immediate surge of activity as boots were kicked off, bags dropped, and raucous laughter broke out as everyone tried to lay claim on the first shower. They split up between their two rented rooms bickering playfully and elbowing one another as they made for the bathrooms.

When they’d left, Dean had wondered if paying in advance for a month’s stay was a bit of a waste. But, in hindsight, he could see that it had been worth it. Not once while they’d been gone had he wondered if his baby would be towed. And, now that they’d returned to this dimension looking like the survivors of a horror flick, he was glad to avoid the hassle of trying to secure accommodations in their condition.

When everyone was fresh and clean, they all piled into the Impala to get some grub. It was almost dawn by then, the first streaks of daylight coloring the horizon. With a chorus of cheers, they pulled into Waldo’s Waffles and prepared to chow down.

“Now you can say ‘bacon’,” grinned Dean to Eileen.

They all ate indulgently, tucking in warm waffles with all the trimmings, eggs, hash browns, and even coffee. Tired to the core, and enjoying a full stomach for the first time in weeks, Dean easily agreed to catching a nap at the motel before heading north.

By that afternoon, fully rested and ready to face what came next, Dean was navigating Baby off of the turnpike and onto the northbound freeway. The ride home was easy and uneventful with the exception of limited space in the car and the feeling of foreboding that fell over him as he neared the bunker. By the time they’d crossed the border into Kansas, Dean had already seen dozens of signs for Jack’s church. Some proclaimed _YOU DON’T KNOW JACK_ and invited people to come to a service to get to know him. Others proclaimed the church’s mission of building paradise on earth and challenged passers-by to find _FULFILLMENT IN SERVICE_.

The closer he got to Lebanon, the more Dean began to worry over what Mary’s condition would be when they returned. Would she be seething and angry and unwilling to listen to reason? Would dealing with her be like trying to extract someone from a cult? Or, would she have stopped eating, stricken sad at being left alone so long… perhaps sick, dehydrated, or worse? What had he been thinking to leave her like that?

Looking back on their departure from the bunker, Dean could see that he’d been negligent by just leaving a note for Jody. He should have called her. He should have told her he was taking Claire and given her a chance to say goodbye. While doing so, he could have asked Jody to stop by the bunker and be sure Mary was okay. Why hadn’t he done that? Was it just because he’d felt as if his mother had wronged him? Had he been spiteful?

Casting a glance at his brother in the rear view mirror, Dean tried to remember that he wasn’t perfect. He was just someone who had done the best he could at the time. His feelings about Mary were different now than they had been back then. By getting to know the childless version of her, Dean now had some insight into how she thought, rationalized, and made her decisions. She was a force to be reckoned with, that was for sure. And, as a mother, she had a lot to learn. But in fairness to her, she hadn’t been given much practice. She’d had Dean for only a few years… back at an age where fixing him a sandwich with the crusts cut off had been the extent of the necessary knowledge. She hadn’t watched him grow up, slowly learning all the nuances of what it is to be a mother and the selfless patience that’s required.

When she’d been resurrected, she’d been thrown head first into a world that was every bit as foreign to her has the apocalypse world had been to him. And, upon entering that world, she’d been immediately thrown into the role of a mother to grown men, hunters nonetheless. Yeah, he could’ve been more understanding when she’d said she needed some time to adjust and some space in which to do it.

She’d needed to mourn for her husband, whom she’d just found out was dead, and she’d needed time to adjust to the ways of this world. It also couldn’t have been easy for her to come to terms with the fact that none of her hopes and dreams for her children had come to fruition. But, he’d given no thought to these things. All Dean had seen was her abandonment.

Now, with some time and distance, he could see clearly that he’d been too hard on her. Sam had been better than Dean, but neither of them had really tried to understand their mother.

Hoping that it wasn’t too late to do so now, Dean covered the last few miles of two-lane asphalt promising himself that he’d do better this time. No matter what state she was in when they entered the dungeon, he’d approach her with understanding and love.

If she screamed at him, he’d let her. If she wanted a hug, he’d give her one. No matter what, he’d be there for her this time. And, knowing her better now, he believed that she’d reciprocate.

Parking in the garage, Dean pulled his keys from the ignition and turned his attention to helping unpack their supplies.

Then, as Claire and Eileen headed for their rooms to settle in, Dean and Sam headed for the dungeon side by side. Cas trailed along behind them, likely wanting to help if needed but trying not to intrude on matters of their family.

Pausing for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, Dean stood in the hall and looked at Sam as they prepared to enter. “Whatever happens in there,” he whispered, “our top priority is Mom. Whatever Jack did to her… we’ll undo it.”

Sam nodded his agreement, and then Dean pushed the door open. Dean had been thinking about this moment for hours. His mind had wandered through dozens of scenarios about what they’d find on the other side of this door. Not once had it crossed his mind that when he entered this dungeon, he’d find Jack waiting for him.

In the space of a single heartbeat, Dean saw and recognized the strange irises that glowed a murky yellow color in the dim. His hand was reaching for his gun faster than coherent thought could process, his body drawing on years of experience hunting. He was as fast as a gunslinger in the old west, but it didn’t help him.

As he had once before, Jack slowed Dean’s weapon hand easily. The young man stood, unmoving, his hand thrown out in front of him, while waves of power thrummed out from that hand. Dean could feel the pulses rolling past him the way waves slide past a buoy out on the open ocean. He was suspended there, feet lifted off the ground and limbs floating uselessly. This feeling of suspended animation was unnerving to say the least, but at least he understood what was happening this time.

Back when Jack had first used his powers on them, the brothers had been taken by surprise. They’d had with no idea what was happening at the time. Reality had simply distorted around them while they were rendered powerless. At the time, it had seemed logical that Jack would kill them, but no death blow had come. In the end, he and Sam had simply been flung across the room hard enough for the impact to knock them out.

Now, as he found himself immobile at Jack’s hand for a second time, Dean could feel the nephilim’s power radiating outward. And as the waves of it slipped past him, he realized that Jack was simply holding them still while he decided what to do with him. It was almost as though Jack was hitting a pause button on reality.

Last time they’d been at Jack’s mercy, he’d spared the brothers. But, it seemed doubtful that kind of mercy would be extended again. This time, Jack would likely kill them.

Movement was difficult while the brothers remained suspended before Jack, but not impossible. And, since he figured this was to be the end for them, Dean put all his effort into turning his head. He wanted to see Sam one last time before the end.

His eyes never met his brothers, though. Instead, Dean’s attention was drawn in the other direction. Movement caught his eye and as he followed it, he saw Castiel emerging from behind him on the left. Blue grace glowed from his eyes and his hand was stretched out towards Jack.

That’s when the blow actually came.

With a surge of power, Dean felt himself blown backward into the hallway. His back and skull connected with the tile wall at the same time and the jarring impact of it reverberated through his body. He saw stars as the crack of pain jolted through him and, as he crumpled to the floor, everything went black.

Dean awoke to the sensation of cool tiles under his cheek and a dull ache pulsing through his entire frame. The pain grew sharper and more acute as he neared consciousness. Willing himself to ignore it, Dean focused on getting his eyes open first. Then he took stock of himself as he tried to get to his feet.

The hall was empty and silent and from inside the dungeon, he could hear voices. Dean held still and listened carefully. His ears picked up what he knew to be Castiel’s gravelly voice, and a softer one that he believed to be Jacks. The two seemed to be conversing calmly, though the words were stilted. The cadence of their conversation was reflective of two angels speaking - Dean was quite familiar with the way such dialog sounded. The longer he listened, the more clearly he could make out what was being said. The two had clearly made their introductions while Dean had been unconscious and were now discussing the connection they’d forged while Jack was still in the womb. Jack was telling Cas that he longed for a father, and had once hoped that Cas would be his.

“... I promised your mother that I would help you, Jack, and I intend to follow through on that. If you wish it, that is.”

“Yes, Castiel, I have so many questions for you.”

There was a pause and then Dean heard Cas say, “I will be glad to answer your questions, but, I believe that the brothers are waking now. Perhaps we should address them before we discuss other matters?”

“They are quick to anger,”  said Jack. “Especially the one with green eyes.”

“That is the elder brother. His name is Dean. He is mine. I brought him up from hell.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because God commanded it.”

“And you are bound to him now?”

“I am.”

“Do you wish to be free of him?”

“No, but thank you.”

“And what about the other one?”

“The younger brother is Sam. He knows your father intimately, was once his vessel. These brothers seek to destroy evil.”

“Yours has drawn a weapon on me two times. He seems intent on trying to kill me.”

“He doesn’t know you, Jack, he only knows your father. Because he assumes that you are like Lucifer, he feels compelled to destroy you.”  
“But I am not my father.”

“I believe that Dean will see that in time; he’s a wonderful man. Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes, I suppose, if you can convince him to lay down his arms.”

“Dean?” called Cas.

“Y-Yeah?” he answered, leaning his weight on the wall as he finished pulling his body up from the floor.

“Please holster your weapon and come in here. I’d like you to meet Jack.”

Dean took a hesitant step, looking back at his brother who was still sprawled on the floor. Sam’s features were soft, as though he was sleeping peacefully, but the unnatural tangle of his limbs served as a physical reminder that they’d been flung against the tiled block wall hard enough to knock them out.

Peering around the door casing, Dean reluctantly tucked his pistol into the back of his jeans. He didn’t like doing it, but he trusted Castiel.

Treading lightly, Dean crossed the room towards his angel and came to stand by his side.

“Dean,”  said Cas firmly, “this is Jack. He came here to free your mother, whom he thought was a prisoner.” Nodding to their surroundings, Cas added, “I’m sure you can see why he might make that assumption.”

“She wasn’t herself,” defended Dean. “She was under your influence and it was jeopardizing our mission. I did what I had to do.”

“Why would you say that she wasn’t herself?” asked Jack calmly, his face innocent and questioning like a child’s would be.

“She was sayin’ things,” he answered, searching his mind for specifics. “She wasn’t talkin’ like a Winchester. She was puttin’ on an act too… cookin’ ‘n shit… actin’ like a mom… as if that would keep us from noticing that she had an agenda.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jack, executing a confused head-tilt that reminded Dean of his own angel.

“Every chance she could get,” replied Dean angrily, “she was doin’ some kind of bait ‘n switch… tellin’ us that we didn’t need to worry about you at all and that the apocalypse of some _other_ world was the real problem. She wanted to round up the few hunters that we’ve got left and take them through the portal… mighty convenient, right? Just clear a path for you to do whatever it is you came here to do?”

“Well, she was right, Dean,” said Jack in a matter-of-fact tone. “I was building churches, not ending the world.”

“See? That’s exactly what she said. You were controlling her mind… probably still are. Now, where is my mother?”

“She went for food,” replied Jack, “she’d had nothing but processed meal bars and water for weeks. She said she needed red meat and I told her I’d wait here in case you returned while she was gone.”

“So you say,” Dean gritted out, hand twitching toward the gun tucked against his back. “Why should I believe you?”

“Castiel would know if I was lying,” said Jack without malice, turning his weighted stare towards the angel.

“Yeah, well, you’ve hijacked my angel before too,” spat Dean. Even as he was speaking, the sound of Sam’s voice reached his ears.

“Dean?” he called out. Turning back towards the doorway, he saw that his brother had risen and made his way to the doorway. He leaned there now, clearly dazed and trying to orientate himself. Dean gave him a nod of understanding but his attention was pulled back to Castiel.

“Jack isn’t controlling me, Dean,” Cas was saying, “I can see that now. He may have influenced me through Kelly while still in the womb, but influence is different than control. He shared his vision with me and based on what I saw, I decided to help and protect him any way I could. I promised Kelly before she bore him that I’d care for him and do all I could to keep him from being corrupted by Lucifer. I did that because I felt the purity of his soul. I was wrong to let you convince me that Jack was ill-intentioned. But, because I’ve been successfully manipulated in the past, I believed you when you said it was happening. But now that I’m here with Jack, I can feel him again. Dean, we don’t need to fear him.”

“Cas, I know you mean well. But your little ‘unborn baby-god’ has grown up overnight and now that we’ve been MIA for a while, he’s been completely unopposed as he rounded up a bunch of freakin’ disciples to do his bidding. By now he’s probably got half the country brainwashed into believing he’s some kind of messiah.”

“Dean...” said Sam hesitantly from behind him, “...he could’ve killed us. Twice now. But we’re still here. Maybe we should listen to what he has to say.”

“I agree,” nodded Castiel, “let’s go up to the library. We can sit around the table and discuss this calmly.”

Dean didn’t like his sense of urgency being dismissed. But, he had to admit that his brother’s point was a fair one. Nodding his agreement, Dean turned and headed out into the hall. As they walked, he looked over at Sam, checking for injuries. Satisfied that he was fine, Dean then turned to Cas. He shot his friend a look to show his discomfort and received a solemn nod in response. It was Cas’s way of wordlessly expressing that he understood Dean’s concerns and wasn’t dismissing them.

It felt good to know that they were still on the same side, despite having taken opposing viewpoints on certain events. The four seated themselves around the table and Dean found himself feeling further reassured when his angel sat down right next to him.

“Jack,” said Dean, “what’s with all this church stuff, huh? What’s the angle?”

“I want to build paradise on Earth,” said Jack.

“Yeah, we’ve heard that line before,” grumbled Dean. “What I wanna know is, what’s the end game? What’s in it for you?”

With an endearing smile and the openness of a trusting child, Jack answered simply by saying, “I’d get to live in Paradise.”

Dean felt Castiel turning to look at him, but he didn’t return the gaze. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on Jack as he said, “And who will rule this paradise of yours?”

“I seek to usurp no government, Dean. The law makers and enforcers have nothing to fear from me.”

“So it’s just the money then,” growled Dean. “That’s the common denominator in all the missing person’s cases. You had them emptying out their bank accounts and handing it all over to you. Sammy’s been trackin’ you. You’ve taken people from their homes and families, gotten them to sign over their assets, hell, you’ve even got them setting up bogus corporations to hide all the assets.”

“I do ask for people to give what they can,” nodded Jack, “but as you can see, my clothes are the same as everyone else’s. I don’t wear jewelry or drive an expensive car. In fact, my living space is an apartment in the same building where many members of the church live. My quarters are no more extravagant than anyone else’s. Dean, I don’t seek to elevate myself or rule over anyone.”

From the doorway behind him, Dean heard a soft voice that he instantly identified as Claire. Turning, he saw that she was visibly shaking as she worked to control her temper and keep her voice under control. “But what about the people you’re taking?” she challenged. Clearly she’d been listening.

“Taking?” Jack echoed.

“Yeah, taking. You took Stephanie from her kids. Lots of your new ‘followers’ are missed by their families. Some are still listed as official missing persons. You don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“Stephanie?” parroted Dean, wondering who she was talking about.

“Oh, I’m sorry Dean,” snarked Claire. “I guess if I wanted you to remember her, I should’ve just referred to her as the ‘soccer mom’.”

Cringing, Dean returned his eyes to Jack.

“She was one of my first,” said Jack warmly. “I didn’t take her, she came with me because she wanted to.”

“She left her kids to do it,” bit Claire, her tone cold as ice. “Is that your version of paradise? ‘Cause let me tell you, as a kid that got left, it’s a long way from paradise. It’s fucking hell on earth.”

“We’re working on reuniting her with her children,” said Jack carefully. “How much do you know about her?”

“Plenty. We did a ton of research, even dug into her bank accounts, followed her trail and watched her withdrawing funds at the bank on security cameras.”

“Did you check DHS files?”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” she answered softly, turning her gaze towards Dean. “Did we?”

He shook his head no.

“She was abused by her husband, and so were her children. She’d tried twice to leave him, but he’s a rich and powerful man. He thwarted every attempt she made to keep her children safe from him. But, thanks to my team of lawyers, we’re working on building a real case. With me, she’s getting what she could never get before… lawyers to rival those of her husband. And, people who believe her, care for her, help her. It’s a team effort. We sneak messages to her children, send people to video tape their games for her, Claire, we _are_ helping her. We’re all helping each other… that’s how we’re going to do it.”

Dean watched Claire’s bright blue eyes settle on Jack softly as she took a seat at the table. She seemed mesmerized as she leaned close and said, “Do what?”

“Make Paradise. We do it by serving - by helping each other.  When we work together, everyone’s life is exponentially better. The secular world, even religions, they all preach the sentiment, but none really live it. The members of other churches each keep their own money and compete with one another for everything… material goods, societal status, even bragging rights regarding how virtuous they are or how much charity work they do. Don’t you see? No one is _really_ loving their neighbor. They’re not caring for widows and orphans, forgiving people who wrong them, or any of the other things that are taught in those religions. Not in a way that really matters.

“If you want to find joy,” continued Jack, “you commit yourself to service; put other people’s needs ahead of your own. The way society is now, we all feel like we have to take care of ourselves first and only give to others what little we have left over. But, in my church, we all focus on others first. It’s beautiful.

“For example, Stephanie has a support network around her keeping her strong, people keeping her in touch with her kids, people making sure her material needs are met, and people using their skills to help rectify the situation with her husband. She will soon be reunited with her kids and when she is, she’ll be strong and whole, not beaten down and diminished like she was when she lived with them. She could never make all that happen on her own. And, while she’s waiting for her own kids, she’s loving the lost kids we’ve brought into our midst. She’s a mother to those that need it, and not like a regular volunteer who comes by during pre-determined hours. She’s with them all the time… she’s giving of herself and seeing to the needs of others. She’s helping others even as she’s being helped.”

“T-that’s, well, that’s amazing, Jack,” whispered Claire. Dean felt a tug at his heart as he watched the young lady choking back tears. Cas reached out to her and, without thinking, she reached back.  

As Dean watched, the two locked hands and smiled warmly at one another. Dean had rarely felt such joy as he did in this moment. Seeing Cas finally sharing a healthy relationship with Claire was very fulfilling. Deep down, Dean knew that Jack was right about helping others. He’d always been more invested in the welfare of others than of himself and, he thought, how incredible would it be to see everyone around him living by that same principle?

Eileen had followed Claire into the room and sat down quietly, but until this moment, she’d said nothing. Now, she both said and signed to Jack, “I want to help.”

“Then you will,” he said to her warmly.

When Mary returned, she seemed surprised to see everyone around the table together, and even more surprised to see her sons in an open dialog with Jack. It was a long night of questions, answers, and meandering discussions. But when Dean finally crawled into bed that night, he found himself daring to hope.

Castiel crawled in next to him and the two latched onto one another beneath the covers. Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder and Dean wrapped his arm around the man’s neck so he could thread his fingers through the angel’s soft hair.

“It’s good to be back in our room,” sighed Castiel.

“It is,” sighed Dean. His body was heavy, exhausted emotionally as well as physically. Jack, who rarely slept, was still in the library, thumbing through their vast archives. Everyone else had begged off to bed when exhaustion set in, but not before a round of heartfelt hugs were exchanged among Winchesters. Their mom, because of Jack, was far too forgiving to hold a grudge against her boys for judging her harshly and sentencing her to exile in the dungeon. She hadn’t even given Dean a disapproving look when he and Cas had headed off to bed holding hands.

Curling up together, Dean had known his angel would likely leave as soon as he fell asleep. Cas, who didn’t need sleep the way Dean did, would probably want to return to the library and spend the rest of the night in deep discussion with Jack. So, when Dean noticed sleep beginning to creep up on him, he pecked Cas on the cheek contentedly and surrendered to it.

In the morning, as expected, he woke alone. Glad to be back in the comfort of his own dimension, Dean stretched languidly and remained in bed as he woke rather than stumbling down the hall towards coffee as he normally would have. Enjoying the feel of a real bed and clean sheets, Dean used his time alone to organize his jumbled thoughts.

With Lucifer gone from this world, the only lingering threat had been Jack and whatever dark and ominous plan the nephilim had been cultivating. However, in light of their discussion the previous night, Dean found himself willing to entertain the possibility that Jack may be much less of a threat than he’d initially thought. He hated to admit it, but perhaps his mother had been right all along. Maybe they were wasting resources on Jack that could be better used elsewhere.

Always skeptical, Dean planned to keep an eye on the progression of Jack’s Paradise Church. But, for now, he found himself feeling surprisingly comfortable with the situation. The young man’s disarming countenance was reassuring, as was the childlike simplicity of his answers to Dean’s questions. The nephilim was already powerful, he and his brother had witnessed it first hand. He’d grow into more power as he aged too. But, the young man clearly desired to be a positive influence on the world. Also, the way his mother looked at Jack was very telling. He was fast becoming one of ‘her boys’. She hadn’t been around to raise him or Sammy, but now she’d get the chance to hone her maternal skills by nurturing the nephilim as he grew and became more powerful.  

And, hell, if Jack actually accomplished what he’d set out to… the world really would be a better place. Having never physically touched Jack, Dean believed himself to be unaffected  by the influence of Jack’s grace. But, he still had to question why it was so easy to accept Jack at his word regarding his intentions. Again and again his mind replayed the previous night’s dialog. When questioned about his ‘end-game’ the young man had answered, “I get to live in paradise.” Dean could now see that those words had been the reason why he’d begun to trust Jack. He’d not said, “I’ll be a king,” or “I’ll get to rule paradise,” or some other declaration that he would somehow hold power. No. This kid really and truly thought that just living in a world like he’d imagined was a prize enough… just being part of it. Not leading it or ruling it, but only being part of it.

This boy had none of his father’s desires for power or glory. He was what both Cas and Kelly had declared him to be… a force who would use his powers for the betterment of mankind. Now, as he ruminated on everything, Dean found himself daring to believe in something for the first time in a long time.

He had no idea if Chuck knew what was happening on Earth. Perhaps he peeked in from time to time, perhaps not. Maybe he and Amara were off somewhere together - smiling and happy as he taught her the art of creation, the joy of making something from nothing. But Dean couldn’t help but acknowledge that if Chuck knew of Jack, he’d probably smile warmly.

With his thoughts centered, Dean finally climbed out of bed and pulled on some clothes. Opening his door and stepping out into the hall, he heard voices. Following the scents of fresh coffee and rich breakfast foods, Dean headed for the bunker’s kitchen.

Leaning in the doorway, he watched his mother and Eileen as they cooked side by side. The two seemed happy and relaxed, chatting as they tended several skillets and a toaster. From his vantage in the doorway to the bunker’s hall, Dean’s eye caught movement to his right. There, in the adjacent doorway from the kitchen to the library, he saw his brother. Sam, like Dean, was admiring the view with a warm smile. When he noticed Dean standing nearby, Sam ambled over.

“Morning,” he said, elbowing Dean as he came to lean on the wall next to him. “After weeks of Bobby’s ‘hash’, this smells awesome.”

Reminded of their recent past Dean grimaced, again thinking of how he’d ruthlessly locked his mother in a dungeon. Dean’s eyes lingered on Mary as he tipped his head towards his brother and said, “Smells like forgiveness.”

“I think she understands,” Sam reassured. “If there was ever a mother who could understand why we did what we did… she’s the one.”

Nodding his agreement, Dean left the doorway headed into the kitchen. “Nothing says ‘I love you’ like bacon,” he said to his mother as he approached.

She turned to him with a smile and said, “Grab a plate.” Instead, he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms. She came willingly and hugged him tightly.

“M’sorry I doubted you,” he told her honestly.

“You’re not the only one who has things to apologize for,” she replied softly as she pulled away. “I can’t believe how much time I’ve wasted since I’ve been back. I never should’ve left you boys, no matter how confused I was feeling. Being on my own didn’t help me like I had thought it would, in fact, it added guilt to my confusion. And, if I had stayed here with my family, we probably would’ve worked out our issues sooner. We would have communicated more because we would’ve had to. In the end, we’d have been stronger.  

“But, because we were seperated, the Brits were able to manipulate us. Kelly, Lucifer, even Jack… all of them wound up being things that further divided us. If I had stayed, things would’ve been very different. I can see that now.”

“Hindsight’s 20/20,” consoled Sam from behind them. By their body language, Dean could tell that his mother and brother had already had their own heart-to-heart. Putting his back to them so he could dish up some bacon and eggs, Dean gave Eileen a smile. She returned it, dropping fresh toast onto his plate. Dropping his breakfast on the table, Dean poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down to eat.

Popping a piece of bacon into his mouth, he moaned audibly as he chewed. “It’s good to be back,” he said to the room. Eagerly, he dug in, filling his mouth with savory food.

A moment later, Eileen walked over and settled herself into his brother’s lap across the table from Dean. She snaked a piece of bacon from Sam’s plate and bit into it with undisguised delight.

“I’m on to you,” Dean told her jokingly, “You didn’t jump worlds for Sammy… you’re here for the bacon.”

Grinning widely, she said and signed, “Sam’s a close second.”

Dean chuckled as he watched his brother pinch her playfully and she laughed out loud as she moved to her own chair. They all quieted as they dug into their food hungrily, and Dean found himself feeling very happy for his brother and Eileen. But, more than anything else, he was just grateful that they were on his side of the portal.

Between bites Dean asked his brother, “What’s the plan for the day?”

“Eileen and I are going to get started on a project,” smiled Sam warmly. “We’ve set a goal that gives us ninety days to re-organize the library, storage rooms, lab, dungeon, and weapons room. Then, if all goes well, we’ll host a huge party to open the Men of Letters official Robert Singer Memorial Hunters’ Headquarters.”

Stunned, Dean stared as his brother. “I-I love the name,” he stammered, “S’perfect Sammy.”

“It felt right to honor him,” replied Sam, his clenched chin giving away the effort he was expending not to tear up. “I mean, he was kind of a ‘port in the storm’ for us all those years… it only seems right to pay it forward and make sure that our efforts carry his name.”

Dean, feeling a pang in his chest for his lost surrogate father, gave a solemn nod before attempting to change the subject. “So,” he sighed, “it sounds like you two have really given this some thought.”

“We have,” grinned Sam, “Eileen’s got a solid plan to condense the amount of space needed for storage. It looks like we’ll be able to convert two more rooms into living quarters. That will give us five rooms open to hunters at all times. She’s even planning a digital filing system so that the information in our library can be sent electronically to hunters on the road as it’s needed.”

Dean couldn’t find words to express all that he was feeling as he realized that this place would become Bobby’s legacy.

Suddenly full, Dean pushed his plate back and breathed out a sigh. Wrapping his fingers around his coffee cup, he settled his gaze there. If he’d met his brother’s eye in this moment, his face might’ve crumbled and that was simply not something he was willing to allow.

Never once had Dean permitted himself to imagine either he or his brother retiring from hunting. But this, Sam and Eileen’s vision for the bunker’s future, was uplifting in an unexpected way. His brother would be as retired as a hunter could ever hope to be… he wouldn’t be on the road anymore. But, he wouldn’t be out of the life either. He’d be using his natural skills in academia to better the lives of those who were still in the thick of things. He’d also be helping build a stronger network for hunters across the country.

And, all the while, Sam would be living his dream. Granted, this wasn’t his brothers original dream - the one where he’d finish college, become a lawyer, and raise a family in suburbia. But, this was his brother’s newer and more realistic dream - the one where he’d found a hunter to settle down with, someone who knew the life and readily accepted the limitations of it. In this moment, Dean wasn’t just happy for his brother… he was damn proud of him.

Dean could actually sense it the moment Cas came into the room. Maybe it was just his subconscious picking up on something subtle like the sound of his billowing trench coat, or perhaps he’d simply grown attuned to his angel’s presence. Regardless, he was still emotional and hiding his face. So, when Cas came to stand behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, Dean didn’t look up. He acknowledged his angel with only a nod.

“Claire has called Jody and Donna,” said Cas in his usual metered cadence. “They’ll be here shortly.”

“That’s new,” chuckled Dean. “Usually, I have to guilt-trip her into calling Jody.”

“She seems anxious for them to meet Jack,” mused Cas.

“Or she was homesick and didn’t wanna admit it,” chuckled Dean, getting up from his seat.

“Don’t say that so loud,” laughed Sam, “if she hears you she’ll be embarrassed.”

“She been up all night?” Dean asked Cas, stepping away from the table to put his dishes in the sink.

“Yes,” answered Cas stoically. “She seems quite enamored with Jack.”

“Enamored huh? That what the kids are callin’ it these days?” teased Dean. “Cas, if she likes him, then you best get in there and make sure there’s sufficient space between them. That’s what a father would do.”

Castiel’s face grew surly as he contemplated Dean’s advice and before Dean had even dropped his empty plate into the sink, his angel had turned on his heel and exited the kitchen. Chuckling under his breath, Dean caught sight of his mother nearby. She seemed to have been watching his exchange with Castiel.

His smile slipped from his face as he felt himself scrutinized. Having met his eye, she pushed away from the fridge and began walking towards him.

“I think,” she said as she drew closer, “I had trouble understanding you two at first… you and Castiel. I shamed you over him - and I shouldn’t have.”

Wow. This was unexpected, and the timing was rotten. He’d just gotten his emotions back under control a moment ago and now his mother appeared to be tugging at his heart strings. If her point was going to be that she was okay with him and Cas being a couple, then great. But with his emotions already running high, it wouldn't be easy keeping up his poker face. Dean folded his arms across his chest and squared his shoulders as he listened.

“I had such a one dimensional idea of what an angel was,” continued Mary, “I thought of him as something holy… something pure. Sexualizing that just seemed so exploitive to me. But now that I’ve had some time to think it over, I can see that I was wrong. Dean, the way he looks at you, I’ve never seen devotion like that… ever. And you love him too. It’s beautiful.

“When you were a child, I used to tell you that there were angels watching over you. Now, I’m humbled to see that there really were. Angels aren’t what I had pictured when I said those words… not in this world or the other. But Castiel is, well, he’s everything I could have hoped my baby boy would find when he finally fell in love.”

Rubbing the back of his neck nervously and avoiding her gaze, Dean managed to croak out, “Um, thanks Mom.”

“I love you,” she told him as he she pulled him into their second hug of the day.

“You too mom,” he replied as they stepped apart, “and thanks.”

The remainder of the morning and afternoon was spent in the library. The discussion centered primarily around Jack. He went back and forth between amazing them with his answers to deep philosophical questions, and shocking them with how little he understood some very simple and fundamental things. Jack, it would seem, had been soaking up knowledge at every opportunity. Still, his understanding of the world was disturbingly uneven. Dean silently likened the nephilim’s mind to swiss cheese.

Honestly, even if Jack’s age were measured in weeks, he’d only recently hit double digits. All things considered, the young man’s grasp of things was remarkable. Thirsting for knowledge, Jack had been going through the men of letters’ archives since last night. But, he always seemed to put down his reading material for the sake of speaking with someone. It would seem that he valued the input of people over the words in books.

Since the young man had such an open and honest disposition, his attraction to Claire was obvious. And, as far as Dean could tell, it was reciprocated. The two orbited around one another, both obviously fascinated by the other and enthralled to have met.

Later that afternoon, when Jody and Donna arrived, both were quick to pick up on the vibe between Jack and Claire. The two exchanged a knowing look as they warmly hugged everyone and welcomed Eileen. Then, they settled down at the library table to join the discussion.

When Claire inquired about Alex, Donna explained that she’d wanted to come but had a test in the morning. Rolling her eyes, Claire made a disparaging comment. But the fact that she’d even asked about her surrogate sister spoke volumes about them having grown closer. As did the fact that Claire seemed a bit disappointed that Alex had turned down the chance to come.

“If we had needed her, she would’ve come,” said Jody firmly. But, since everything’s under control at the moment, her schoolwork was the priority.”

In the past, a statement like that would’ve garnered further argument. But, to Dean’s surprise, Claire let the subject rest and even flashed Jody a hint of a smile.

As the clock edged closer to dinner time, Dean headed back to the bunker’s kitchen. He opened the fridge to take a look at the supplies Mary had bought yesterday and found that there was plenty of hamburger. So, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work making patties with plans to fry burgers for everyone.

As he went about his work, Castiel drifted into the room, coming to stand next to him. “Heya, Cas,” he greeted without looking up.

“Would you like assistance?”

“Ya could grab me a beer,” he answered, adding another completed patty to his stack. Cas nodded and turned away, returning a moment later with a cold one.

Dean tipped his head in thanks and took a swig before returning to his work. Behind them, Dean could hear a burst of laughter rising up from the other room. “What’s the discussion in there?” he asked.

“The future, it would seem.”

“Whose future?”

“Everyone’s, I suppose. Sam and Eileen have been going over the details of their plans for the bunker and the network they plan to set up for hunters. I believe you were there for most of that discussion. Then Jody and Donna mentioned their plans for a vacation in the near future, though they still seem committed to hunting as much as they can. Your mother said she also has plans to travel, though her trip seems to be related to her role within Jack’s church.”

“Well,” chuckled Dean, “thanks for the recap. Wanna hand me the salt?”

Obligingly, Castiel passed him the shaker and he sprinkled a dusting over his completed burgers before turning towards the stove.

“What plans do you have, Dean?”

“I was just gonna fry ‘em,” he answered.

“I don’t mean for the evening meal, Dean, I’m asking what plans you have for the future.”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “I’ve thought about as far ahead as dinner.”

“You’ve thought of more than that,” said Castiel, leaning on the counter and training his eyes on Dean.

“I have?”

“You have,” nodded Cas. “You were working on a list of sorts, things you thought would make me want to stay on earth with you. I believe that may have been what motivated you to take me swimming in Montana?”

“Dude,” winced Dean, “I forgot you can read my mind now. I’m not so sure that’s gonna work for me. I mean, a man needs some privacy.”

“I will try to refrain in the future,” said Cas patiently. “But I would think it preferable to me asking personal questions and waiting for you to answer aloud.”

“I guess so,” Dean sighed. As he laid the first four burgers into an oversized skillet, he ruminated on his list of ‘reasons’. The heavy pan popped and sizzled as the meat began to cook and the scent of it wafted up to fill Dean’s nostrils. He still had a vague list in his mind, though he hadn’t given it much thought while they’d been in the alternate reality.

“Look, Cas, I just wanted you to see that there’s more down here than slogging from one dive to the next. There’s good stuff too.”

“You didn’t want me to leave.”

“Well, ya gotta admit,” replied Dean, his eyes fixed on the skillet rather than Cas, “once the action’s over, you’re quick to disappear. There’s always some other fire to put out or some issue up in heaven. I guess I just wanted you to see that there’s something to stick around for. Ya know… give you some reasons to stick around.”

“And you didn’t think that _you_ were reason enough?” pressed Castiel.

Still avoiding his angels gaze, Dean shrugged.

“It never occured to you that all you had to do was ask and I might stay?”

Again, Dean shrugged, busying himself with flipping his burgers over.

“You should have put your kisses on that list,” mused Cas, leaning on the counter smugly. “You have bowling on the list, Dean, bowling.”  
Dean found himself incapable of holding down his proud smile as he absorbed Castiel’s praise of his kissing. “Hey, bowling is way more fun than it sounds,” he defended jokingly. Turning away from the stove, he busied himself with getting condiments out of the fridge.

“Sam and Eileen are going to turn the bunker into a haven for hunters,” reminded Cas as Dean continued prepping their meal. “Claire is going to hunt. Jody and Donna are going on vacation. What do you want to do Dean?”

“Well, clearly you’re not excited about the bowling,” he teased. Then, as he dumped a package of frozen french fries onto a cooking sheet, he looked up at his angel and asked, “What do you want to do Cas?”

“I know that you’d like to keep hunting,” said Castiel matter of factly, “and I’ve told you in the past that I’d like to be a hunter too. That hasn’t changed. I realize that my ‘people skills’ will likely never be as good as yours, but I believe I could be useful in other ways.”

“You wanna hunt with me?”

“If you’d like.”

“I would,” he said honestly. Dean had been happy for his brother as he’d watched him making plans with Eileen, but he had no interest in staying at the bunker full time. His life had always been the open road.

Having his own room at the bunker was nice, and sharing it with Cas was even nicer. But if he was being honest, Dean had to admit that cabin fever usually set in after a week or so in the bunker. Unlike his brother, Dean could not commit to a future where he stayed in one place indefinitely.

“Good,” smiled Cas. “So, when you head out on your next case, I’ll go with you. Claire has made it clear that she prefers to hunt on her own, but I think she’s just trying to prove herself. Once she’s done that, she may be willing to join us from time to time.”

“Sounds good, Cas,” he replied, a bit dazed. It was hard to believe, but it kind of sounded like he’d just gotten what he’d wanted all along… Castiel’s word that he’d be staying… that wherever Dean went next, Cas would be with him… could it be true? “So, does that mean,” he asked hopefully, “does that mean you’re stayin’?”

“Of course I’m staying with you Dean,” said Cas softly. Now it seemed to be the angel’s turn to bashfully look away as he spoke.

“But, things seem quiet right now. Perhaps we could take a little time for ourselves before we start looking for cases?”

“A little time?” Dean repeated questioningly as he pushed the pan of fries into the broiler.

“Yes Dean, some time for ourselves. We could do some of the things on your list and, perhaps, some of the things on mine?”

“You have a list?”

“I do.”

“What’s on it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

At that precise moment, Sam burst into the room. “I thought I smelled something,” he grinned. Then, turning back towards the library, Sam announced to everyone, “It’s burgers. Dean’s making burgers.”

A beat later everybody was spilling into the kitchen. Busy as bees, Donna and Jody flitted about getting plates, glasses, and silverware out. Eileen had pulled tomatoes from the fridge and was now slicing them up and next to her, Sam had begun washing up a head of lettuce in the sink. Jack was In the center of the room, deep in conversation with Claire but still watching everyone as they went about their self-assigned tasks.

Soon they were all crowded around the table, building ambitious burgers and complimenting Dean’s cooking. Settling into the seat next to his angel, Dean cracked his knuckles before delving into the double stack he’d made for himself. His mouth was open wide, trying to fit the entire thing in for a bite, when his brother burst out laughing.

“Look at that,” teased Sam, “Dean can unhinge his jaw like a snake.”

“I’m sure that’s a useful skill in the bedroom,” giggled Donna to Jody in a whisper.

“I heard that,” he growled at her. Then, he sank his teeth into his juicy burger and set to work on chewing the enormous bite he’d taken.

“So,” said Donna, her eyes fixing on Castiel, “are you staying in the bunker permanently now?”

“I’m staying with Dean,” the angel clarified. “He plans to continue hunting and I will be joining him.” As he said it, Cas turned towards Dean as though waiting for Dean’s verbal consent to the plan. With his mouth packed full, he was unable to give it, so he simply gave an exaggerated nod of agreement and then turned to see how Sam would react to the idea of Dean hunting without him. To his surprise, Sam was smiling widely at him… as though he really liked the idea of Dean and Cas hunting together.

“And,” added Cas, pulling Dean’s attention back to him, “we might take a little time to ourselves before we start looking for cases. We both have a few things we’d like to do.”

“Like a vacation?” asked Jody between bites.

Under her breath, Dean heard Donna whisper, “...more like a honeymoon…”

Still working on swallowing an enormous bite, Dean couldn’t retort. Instead, he kept chewing and listened as Cas went on.

“Dean seems to think that I need to experience things like a drive-in movie and a roller-coaster ride before I’ll be satisfied with life on Earth.”

“Sounds fun,” enthused Claire from across the table. “What else are you guys gonna do?”

“Well, I’ve got a few things I’d like Dean to experience as well,” Cas told her with a beatific smile.

“Like what?” asked Claire, seeming to be interested.

“Like the Northern Lights from the highlands of Iceland,” quipped Cas.

“Or maybe something in America,” joked Dean, completely surprised by the ambitiousness of his angel’s first suggestion.

“Then perhaps the Grand Canyon,” said Cas, “I’m aware that you saw some of it when you and Sam were boys, but I know you’d like to return.”

Funny, Dean hadn’t thought about the Grand Canyon in a long time. But even that memory, so long undisturbed it practically had cobwebs, seemed to have been plucked from his head by Castiel. Yes, John had taken them there as children. They’d ridden to the bottom on mules. Cas was right, he’d occasionally thought of returning if the opportunity ever arose. Even as he began to imagine visiting there with his angel, the discussion was moving on around him.

“Oh that sounds lovely,” Donna sighed, “and you’ll have to stop at Lake Mead while you’re there.”

“Vegas,” added Claire, as if the city of sin was a no-brainer.

“I’ve heard of Vegas,” Jack chimed in, “what happens there stays there.”

Claire giggled and leaned in to whisper something to Jack. The conversation fell silent then, everyone more focused on eating than talking. Dean was left thinking of the Grand Canyon and Castiel’s list.

“What else is on your list, Cas?” he asked when they finally crawled into bed that night.

“My list isn’t any more defined than yours,” replied Castiel as he pulled the covers up around them. “I simply wish to show you things that I think you would enjoy. For example, the way the sunrise looks when you can only see water in every direction.”

“Tell me another one,” pressed Dean, like a child asking for another bedtime story.

“When an iceberg breaks away… you can feel it, Dean, all through your body. The air moves around you and the sound of it is like thunder but it lasts for quite some time. The entire land mass shudders beneath you as it happens and you feel the raw power of it. Honestly, I can’t describe it to you. You’ll have to see it, hear it, feel it for yourself.”

Reaching out between the sheets, Dean slid his palm onto Castiel’s chest and turned his body to curl up next to his angel. “That sounds amazing, Cas,” he whispered. “Your list sounds way fuckin’ better than mine.”

“As I said before,” smiled Cas, “just add kissing to your list and it won't seem so vastly inferior to mine.”

Smiling in the soft lamplight of their bedroom, Dean leaned in to give one now. The two sank down into the sheets as they lost themselves in one another. Soft gasps of pleasure slipped from both men as they touched and tasted, Dean’s arms and legs wrapping around Cas as they rocked together. Whispered endearments tumbled from Dean without his consent or regret as he felt himself prepped and penetrated, his partner thick and hard between his legs. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he felt himself stretched thin, his mind and body fully focused on the pleasure and pain of the moment as Castiel began to move inside him.

He clenched his eyes shut, willing his moist eyes not to overflow as he considered how lucky he was to have this… to have Castiel. With that thought in mind, Dean tightened his grip on his angel and tipped his head back, a sigh escaping as a familiar feeling descended on his lower body. The soft buzzing of pleasure was growing already, it’s point of origin becoming more pronounced as Cas’s thrusts continued milk pleasure from deep inside him. Between his legs, Dean felt himself growing and an expectant tingle of excitement sparked low in his stomach.

Castiel must’ve been feeling it too because he suddenly scrambled to pull his knees up, putting more power behind each roll of his hips. As their passion built, Dean found himself spreading his legs wider, eager to take more and more of his angel inside of him. He’d never surrendered to anything so fully, or given of himself so freely. Approaching his end, Dean opened his eyes and looked up at Cas. His angel was looking at him too and their eyes held for a moment before the floodgates opened and the wave of pleasure he’d been waiting for rolled heavily over him. Unable to keep his eyes open against it, he let them fall shut and surrendered to the sensation.

When he began coming back to himself, Dean realized that his angels weight was spread over him but made no move to unseat his lover. Instead he reveled in the feeling of closeness and Cas's heavy breathing on his sweaty skin. In the quiet aftermath, Dean thought of all the things he’d said and done over the years in the hopes of keeping his angel near. Breaking the silence he said, “The reasons, man, I thought they were good. The drive in, the roller coaster, all that stuff I wanted to take you to do - they all seemed right in my head. But, I gotta admit, you really got me with the iceberg and the Grand Canyon… let’s just forget my list and do yours. It’s fuckin’ awesome.”

“We’ll do both,” said Cas, resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder. It didn’t escape Dean’s attention that Cas’s palm was laying right where the angel’s hand print had once been seared into his flesh. “Dean, I _want_ to go to the drive-in with you. I want to sit with you in Baby and watch a movie on a warm summer’s night with the windows down. We’ll eat salty popcorn and I’ll let you touch me when it seems like no one can see us.”

“That’s just how I pictured it,” marveled Dean.

“I know,” chuckled Cas, his breath tickling Dean’s ear.

“Oh. Okay, so, the mind reading thing still kinda freaks me out,” he admitted.

“It saves time,” replied Castiel as he untangled himself from Dean. “It also keeps you from having to say uncomfortable things out loud because you can just _think_ them and I’ll know.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that you want to have sex with me in the dungeon, chained to the chair.”

“Fuck.”

“We’ll have our chance,” promised Cas, “Sam and Eileen will have to leave the bunker at some point.”

Dean snickered as he rolled onto his side to face his lover, bringing their lips together for a lingering goodnight kiss.

 _I love you_ , he thought.

“And I you,” Castiel whispered back to him.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Destiella. She's wonderful to work with and I've been SO LUCKY to have her with me on this project.


End file.
